Ulumbarra
by Idolatrous
Summary: Phryne is receiving death threats and Jack does what it takes to keep her safe.
1. Chapter 1

_Hi everyone,_

_ Here is my first fanfiction story, in fact it is my first go at fiction of any kind ..._

_Hope you enjoy it._

* * *

Phryne stood in her parlour, feet slightly apart, hands on her hips. She narrowed her eyes and gave him her most intimidating glare. "I will not run and hide from these people, and I will not be secreted away to some god-forsaken hovel to live under house arrest!"

It was early afternoon. They were standing facing each other, both visibly tense. Jack was tired and did not want to fight. He knew this would be a challenging conversation and had dreaded it all morning, partly because he knew how Phryne would react and partly because he was still smarting from the argument with her three weeks ago when she told him about her case and asked for his help, only to ignore his advice, as usual.

But this was a conversation that could not be put off any longer. He was exasperated by her relaxed attitude to the death threats she had received and wanted to shout at her to stop being so self-absorbed and to start considering other people for a change. He sighed and rubbed his brow, trying to calm himself, knowing that raising his voice at Phryne would only make matters worse, would ramp up her indignation. He was tired of tiptoeing around her but a year or so of working closely with her, if you could call it that, had taught him what worked: confrontation, no matter how much he wanted it, was not always the best approach. He was still furious at her for agreeing to get involved in this mess in the first place, but pushed it aside, for now.

"Phryne," he said gently, with as much control as he could muster, "please, you don't know what these people are capable of."

Phryne snorted. "Don't patronise me Jack. Of course I know what they are capable of, I have been practically living with them for the last three weeks."

"Please Phryne, think it through," he continued, "your life is in danger and they won't stop until they see you dead."

Phryne huffed. "Why can't I go away on holiday instead?" she asked, genuinely confused by his offer of taking her to a safe house.

"Because they may trail you to find out where you are going. If they captured you, you would be at an even greater risk with no-one around to know that you have disappeared." Jack thought he detected a flash of understanding across Phryne's face and quickly continued. "The safe house is not a hovel and is perfectly comfortable. You may not have to stay long, just long enough for us to find Roberts' associates and put them behind bars. City South are in on this now, so we have double the manpower."

"Pfft!" Phryne scoffed, now pacing the floor, hands still on her hips. "The operation had been going on for months, Jack, with the Williamstown plods gaining no result until I stepped in. Finding his gang could also take months, even with your team on the case now. Do you really expect me to hide away for months with my life on hold?"

William Roberts was one of Melbourne's smartest and most notorious criminals, also known as King Billy, a drug importer who operated out of Williamstown on the north of the bay. The local force was in charge of establishing that Roberts was the source of a new batch of dirty opium that had been brought in from China. They had been trying to infiltrate his ring for months but made no gains in the case and were mourning the loss of two undercover officers.

Phryne was alerted to the opium problem by her friend, Ada, who had lost her brother and two of his friends to this drug, destroying their families in the process. She wanted them brought to justice and had asked Phryne to dig a little, knowing that she knew people with questionable connections but did not expect her to fully immerse herself in the case by infiltrating the gang. Phryne asked around and didn't like what she heard. She became apprehensive about what she needed to do to get a result but felt it was too late to back out and was too proud to admit she was scared. Also, Ada had been so pleased when she had agreed to the assignment that she felt like she had no choice but to proceed. As a compromise, she had asked for Jack's help.

Jack was appalled at the idea of Phryne getting mixed up with these people and had tried to talk her out of it. He had firmly told her that City South would not get involved as it was politically sensitive: the Williamstown station had been tracking King Billy's movements for some time now and was getting close. He knew that although the officers from Williamstown were probably frustrated by their lack of progress and were two men down, they were very protective of their sting and resented outside involvement, especially from the likes of him, an officer who, in their view, wasn't a team player: he had single handedly exposed high-ranking officers and decent, hard-working men on the force as corrupt. And the rumours that he was involved with _that woman, _who had access to his cases didn't help either. Also, he explained to her, he was too caught up in the fallout from the Sanderson–Fletcher case to devote any time to this.

Phryne, of all people, should have known he would be busy and distracted: their argument had taken place just two days after he had come to her house, emotionally shattered and needing to be with her after thwarting Fletcher's sex-slave ring and exposing his corrupt ex-father-in-law, only to be awkwardly interrupted by Aunt Prudence when he moved to kiss her. She hadn't had a chance to talk to him again before she told him of her undercover plans.

Although she knew it was a difficult time for Jack, she was in too deep and refused to back down. She stuck out her chin in defiance and asked him how many other people would die as a result of the distribution of this drug and reminded him that her undercover work had solved many cases that the Victorian police force could not. Jack had to concede that this was true, but this case was different: these were very dangerous and clever criminals who had been suspected of terrorising Melbourne for years without being caught.

Phryne had smirked and suggested the possibility of an inside job involving bent coppers, given that Roberts seemed to have had free rein over the city for years now. This was a low blow and he was stung by her words that cut close to the bone. He almost begged her in the end but stopped when he realised that she would do it anyway. Exhausted and without the energy to fight, feeling completely overwhelmed and very alone, he stared at her with a look of utter dejection. Before she could say another word, he turned on his heels and strode out of her house, snatching his hat off the hall stand and disappearing out the door before she had a chance to stop him.

Phryne had felt like all the wind had been knocked out of her by his exit. She knew that look. Was he walking out on her again? Alter all that they had been through? She started to question why she had agreed to take on the assignment so readily, but self-doubt was something she was not used to feeling. The whole episode had left her feeling unnerved, so she did what she always did when confronted with emotional angst: she sought a distraction, this time by throwing herself into the case.

She went undercover as a recent repatriate from China. Her carefully constructed story was that she had been an opium-addicted concubine to wealthy businessmen in Shanghai, which had attracted a steady stream of foreigners to its busy ports after the war. She grew tired of this, she had explained to Roberts once she was granted rare access, and had business aspirations of her own so she sought a cure for her addiction in one of the many private clinics that catered to westerners, which had started to spring up across the city due to their high demand. She then set up her own business, which amassed enough money to allow her to return to Australia to set up shop in her local town to provide women and opium to the reckless and wealthy. Her sassy demeanour and her smattering of Shanghainese and Mandarin were enough to convince them of her story.

Once she was in the safety of her home during the case, she had wanted desperately to call Jack, to let him know that she was (of course) alive and well but sensed that she would either be met with stony silence, chastised again for getting herself into such a dangerous situation, or worse, told again that he didn't want to be part of her life. No, it would be better for her to wait until she was successful in finding proof of Roberts' involvement before she contacted him. Anyway, she figured he would no doubt be kept informed of her progress from Hugh, who was kept abreast of her adventures by a steady stream of information from Dot, which Phryne fed to her for this reason.

Roberts was a criminal mastermind who trusted no-one, but even he was not immune to her considerable charms and took a personal interest in this single, attractive woman with a keen sense for business, thereby smoothing her way to the heart of the operation and allowing her to quickly gain the information to have Roberts arrested.

At the end of the case when Phryne fronted up to Williamstown police station with the evidence they needed to put Roberts away, she was shocked at the threat to have her thrown in gaol for interference. Despite his anger and acute embarrassment in being outdone by a woman (particularly _that woman)_, Reynolds, the DI in charge, acted swiftly and arrested Roberts.

Facing the noose, thwarted in love and shamed by being brought down by a woman — a lady detective at that — Roberts made sure she would suffer. His influence and reach allowed him to get messages to his men from the bowels of prison in which he ordered her capture and torture, with the ultimate aim of death. Roberts was smart and (usually) a good judge of character. He pegged her as someone who didn't like to be told what to do so suggested threats to goad her into coming out fighting.

DI Reynolds was quick to wash his hands of the admittedly impressive but meddlesome (not to mention intimidating) Miss Fisher and Jack was called in once they discovered that Phryne had starting receiving the notes from Roberts' associates. She knew he would get involved once he learnt of the death threats, and she had steeled herself for a confrontation, not knowing what to expect. She didn't have to wait long to find out: he came over as soon as he knew with an offer to take Phryne to a safe house while the Victorian police got on with their job.

Despite the way he stormed out of her house three weeks ago when she last saw him, and her reservations about how he would greet her, she had been very relieved when Jack turned up today. She looked at the concern on his face and softened. He looked tired and wrung out and she had missed him terribly, not just because she hadn't been able to discuss their cases with each other but because she missed _him_, his company. Although she hated being put in this situation, she was thankful that at least they were talking again.

Phryne sighed and took a step towards Jack and reached out to touch his arm. "I know this is hard for you. I know you are still angry at me for getting involved but I can't hide out somewhere, without contact with the outside world, not knowing when I will be able to go home." Phryne took a small step closer to him and continued. "And you know that going to the safe house will be hard for me. It's in a place that is just like Collingwood, full of poverty and misery and will take me straight back to my deplorable childhood. I don't want to do it, Jack. I will be locked in a house with nothing but memories and I will feel like I am suffocating. Please try and understand that. I am not being difficult for the sake of it, the thought of being stuck there terrifies me."

Jack looked at Phryne and saw the fear in her eyes. He took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping as he exhaled. He looked at her, holding her gaze. Here was a woman who was seemingly fearless but was terrified of evoking memories of her childhood and the loss of her sister. He knew this wasn't an easy thing for Phryne to admit. He looked away, uncertain of what to say that would convince her that her life was in danger and that staying and doing nothing was risky. He raised his head and took her hand in his.

"Phryne, it is not just you who is in danger, Dot and Mr Butler are in danger too and if these thugs find out where Jane goes to school, then she could also be in danger. They could kidnap her and hold her as ransom to get to you."

Phryne sucked in a breath at his words and took an involuntary step back from Jack, slowly withdrawing her hand from his. Why hadn't she considered that the people who meant the most to her in the world were also at risk from her involvement? How could she have been so stupid?

Jack took a step towards her and continued before her proud resolve kicked back in. "This is big," he continued, "Roberts may hang because of you and his men will do all that they can to hurt you. Right now they are probably jostling with each other to see who takes over as leader and your scalp may be what it takes for one of them to prove themselves worthy. Just spend some time away, send Dot and Mr Butler away and let us sort this out. Please."

Phryne was shocked and lost for words. She looked down, shaking her head, her proud demeanour slipping away. Jack had to act quickly; he had to come up with something that she would consider before she could gather her thoughts and refuse his help again. Although sensing that what he was about to suggest could go horribly wrong, he pressed on, presenting her with another option that would seem preferable to the safe house.

"Phryne, what if you went away but didn't have to go to the safe house?"

She looked at him, confused. "What do you mean? I thought a trip away was out of the question."

Jack swallowed, he felt uncomfortable but was unable to pull out now. "I have also been told I need to make myself scarce, to take some time off because things are heating up in the Sanderson and Fletcher case." Jack paused and looked away, the mere mention of their names causing him discomfort. He eventually continued and said quietly, "I have also been receiving anonymous threats, presumably from high-powered brothel clientele who have their reputations and marriages at stake." He looked up to see Phryne looking at him sadly. "Or from fellow officers who feel that the disclosure of the contents of the box of mementos from the brothels will result in good men losing their jobs because of nothing more than a momentary lapse in discretion."

Phryne looked even more forlorn and closed her eyes. She felt a familiar pang of regret that her insistence on taking the case and their ensuing argument meant that she was not there for Jack during his time of need. The shocking results of their last case together, Rosie's emotional needs, their thwarted kiss and now this; there was still so much to be said between them but their pride and stubbornness stood in the way.

She opened her eyes and stepped towards him. "Oh Jack," she said softly, her voice heavy with emotion.

Jack was comforted to know that she may have felt the same regret at the way they last parted. He also knew they needed to talk further about this but pushed it aside and pressed on with his plan. "I have been given the use of one of the police vehicles and told to lie low. What if you came with me? A compromise, a holiday if you like. Would you please consider that?"

Phryne's eyes widened at this suggestion. Surely he wasn't asking her to go away with him, just the two of them. "You would be willing to take me away with you? But where would we go?" she asked, confused and suddenly intrigued.

Jack knew he had one shot at this. "It's a country retreat that I stay at from time-to-time. It is isolated and private but not too remote and is comfortable and safe. We wouldn't be confined to the house and we would be ... alone ..." His voice trailed off, as the reality of what he was suggesting sank in. He felt uncomfortable and stared at the floor, blinking slowly, unsure of what to say next.

Phryne was also quiet. The thought of them going away alone with each other had rendered them both speechless. She was a little shocked at the inappropriateness of the offer, not because it offended her sensibilities, far from it, but she thought it strange that Jack, who seemed so morally upstanding, would have even entertained the idea of the two of them being alone together for days on end, let alone acted on it.

Jack lifted his head and looked at Phryne, steeling himself for her refusal. Phryne gazed back at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. She smiled cheekily and broke the silence. "Just the two of us, Jack? What will people think?" she teased, but was instantly sobered by the hurt on Jack's face.

Jack slumped his shoulders and looked away, unable to hold Phryne's gaze. She had no idea of how difficult this was for him and he was tired of her not taking this seriously. He put his hands on his hips and stood upright, scowling, squaring his shoulders for a fight. His eyes locked on hers. "This is not a time for jokes, Miss Fisher," he said angrily. "Do you think this is easy for me? I have been worried sick about you being amongst those people these past few weeks, not hearing from you, having to rely on snippets of information from Collins. I am extremely worried about your safety and I feel that you have left me no choice: if you won't go to a safe house then this was the only alternative I could think of." He paused, taking a deep breath to calm down, staring at the floor. "The timing is perfect and no-one will know where we have gone."

Phryne was startled by the vehemence of his outburst. "Jack," she said softly, "I don't want to think that you have compromised your integrity by feeling you have no choice but to take me with you. I fear you will only resent me if I say yes. After all, _you_ need to get away from all that has happened these past weeks. And you would probably like a break from me," she added quietly.

Jack gave Phryne one of his penetrating looks and again reached for her hand, softly caressing her knuckles with his thumb. "Phryne, I am sorry it came out that way. I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't want to. Of course I know that this would be considered inappropriate but I don't care about that," he said showing rare irreverence to societal expectations. "You are my friend and all I care about is your safety. What sort of holiday would I have if I worried about you all the time? Let me help make sure you are safe."

Phryne knew Jack cared for her, loved her perhaps, but was still deeply moved by his words. She knew this would have been a difficult decision for him and wondered if this would be a game changer in their fragile relationship. She pushed this thought aside, offered him a small smile and gazed into his eyes.

Jack relaxed his grip on her hand as she slowly withdrew it. He watched her smile fade as a range of emotions played across her face and he held his breath as he steeled himself for her answer. He watched her bite her lip as she weighed up the pros and cons of his offer. He held his breath; if it was no, then they were back to square one: Phryne refusing outright to budge or compromise in any way. If she said yes, he would have to make good on his promise.

"So, where is this country retreat?" she asked.

"Err ... It's my grandparents' property near Daylesford. When they died a few years back, the property passed on to my mother and it is now used as a holiday house by my family. I spent quite a lot of time there as a boy with my grandparents in the school holidays. It is quite picturesque and has a lovely creek running through it," he added, trying to pique Phryne's interest, knowing of her love of water and swimming. He swallowed at the image of Phryne in her bathing costume, or worse, without one, but gathered his thoughts and added enigmatically, "You could say it was my retreat from the troubles of my youth."

Phryne cocked her head slightly. She was intrigued: despite spending quite a bit of time together, Phryne knew very little about Jack's past. This was an opportunity too good to miss. And, she thought, it _was_ a compromise, her small way of acknowledging that Jack was right: she was in danger and going away without her staff would be best under the circumstances.

"So, not a cottage in Lorne then?" she teased again.

This time Jack managed a small smile, relieved at the change in mood, despite fretting a little about her accepting his offer. It seemed Phryne was not the only one guilty of making hasty decisions without proper consideration of the consequences.

Phryne beamed at him and threw her arms out to her sides, slapping them down on her thighs. "All right, I will," she smiled, chin up. "You're right: I could do with a holiday." She watched the expression on Jack's face change quickly from one of relief to dread, before he gathered his thoughts and gave her one of his more familiar, neutral expressions. "Unless, of course," she spoke slowly, looking up at him with a smile, "you have just changed your mind, Inspector."

Jack gave her a small, lopsided smile. How was it that they had argued and she had finally agreed to something that he had suggested but she still managed to act like she was the victor? Jack exhaled and tried to appear relaxed, fooling no-one. "I ... err ... good! I am pleased you have finally found some sense, Miss Fisher," he answered stiffly, forcing a smile. "I think we should leave as soon as it is possible for you to organise some things for the ... err ... trip and for your staff to organise alternative accommodations."

Phryne smiled at Jack's awkwardness. This was going to be an interesting few days. "Well, that's settled then," she said brightly. "Tell me what I need to bring and I will be ready first thing tomorrow morning."

Jack shook his head. "It's too dangerous to leave in daylight, Miss Fisher. I suggest that we leave late tonight so we can travel under the cover of darkness. The property is several hours away, so if we leave at, say eleven, we should be there around three tomorrow morning."

Phryne was taken aback by the speed at which this was now progressing but decided, for once, not to argue and they discussed what she should bring with her. They agreed that she would tell no-one where she was going, only that she would be safe and would contact them once she was home again. Satisfied they had covered all that needed to be discussed, Jack declared that he should be going so he could pack and moved into the hall to collect his hat, with Phryne closely behind him. He turned and opened the door.

"Jack," Phryne started, unsure of how to continue.

Jack turned around to face her, nervously fidgeting with the rim of his hat. Was she going to change her mind?

"Thank you," Phryne said softly, stepping closer to him and reaching out to squeeze his hand. "I am touched by your concern for me, I really am. I couldn't ask for a better friend."

Despite his smile, Phryne detected sadness in Jack's expression. They gazed into each other's eyes in only the way they could, their small way of acknowledging, but not acting on, the attraction that flowed between them. It was like gravity, gently pulling them together, only to be hindered by their fierce independence, an equal and opposite force that held them apart.

Jack nodded and squeezed her hand back before letting go to walk through the door. She watched him walk down her path, her mind already full of possible scenarios, but now was not the time for that: she had packing to do. She blew out a breath. Time, she thought uneasily, they would certainly have plenty of that.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews and words of encouragement. It really means a lot to me. _

_I meant to say last time (but had first-time fanfiction nerves) that for this story to work, the Christmas special never happened ..._

* * *

Jack could feel Phryne's eyes on him as he walked from her house. He heard the click of her door locking as he reached his car. He scanned the street for people sitting in parked cars or evidence of anyone watching her house. Nothing. He opened the door, tossed his hat on the passenger's side and slumped into the seat, closing and locking the door behind him. Here in the quiet, he was hit with the full force of what had just happened. He gripped the top of the steering wheel with both hands and let out a sigh, lowering his head to rest on the back of his hands. What on earth had he done? He had just invited Phryne, unchaperoned, to his special place of solace; the one place he could go to that would allow him to escape the horrors of the past few weeks. What if she hated it? Rosie certainly did, her inability to understand his love and need for this place was one of the reasons they grew apart.

His head still resting on his hands, Jack reflected on the impact this house had on people, particularly on his relationship with Rosie. They had gone there together soon after they were married. He was keen to share this special place and his love of the country with his new bride but things had not gone well: Rosie had refused to venture outside, citing a hatred of heat and the many threats posed by nature.

Later, she accused him of overblown sentimentality when he repeatedly expressed his desire to return there with her, instead of other holiday destinations, for a much-needed break. She agreed, reluctantly, to return to the house for a few important family gatherings after Jack returned from the war, only to have her feelings of hatred towards the house intensify. The minute she walked in the door she felt in some way diminished, as if this foreboding homestead, sitting proudly on a harsh and desolate landscape, sucked the life out of her and her marriage. What started as a fissure of difference when they first met, deepened to a chasm of disconnect and nowhere did Rosie feel this more acutely than that house. It felt like a shrine to who he was before the war: the young, carefree man with a passion for life, whom he desperately wanted to become again.

Neither of them had the strength nor the know-how to find a way to bridge this deepening divide. Rosie clung onto her hatred of the house and held it responsible, with all its memories of his childhood fun and laughter, for rooting Jack to the past and denying them the opportunity to move forward together, to live in the present. Jack never understood Rosie's dread in going to the house and begrudged her for denying him the family contact and solace that he desperately needed from the horrors of his memories and post-war existence. In the end, their differing values and deep-seated resentment only exacerbated Jack's existential crisis induced by the war and they drifted irreversibly apart.

He sighed, slowly shaking his head. And here he was now, about to take the one person who could break him to his special place at a time when he most needed to be there alone. Conscious that Phryne may have seen him in turmoil, Jack took a deep breath and sat up, rubbing his face with both hands. He again scanned the street. Seeing nothing suspicious, he started the car and headed home to pack.

* * *

Jack arrived at Phryne's house at about 10 pm and knocked softly on her door. He was surprised when Mr Butler opened it.

"Good evening Inspector. Do come in," he said, greeting him warmly and stepping aside to allow Jack to enter. "Miss Fisher is upstairs packing. I will let her know of your arrival. Please make yourself comfortable in the parlour. Would you like a whiskey, sir?"

"Ah, yes please, Mr Butler," Jack replied smiling. "Just a small one though, I have a long drive ahead of me."

Mr Butler smiled and with a small nod of his head, turned to walk up the stairs to her room. He took a step and then hesitated, turning around to face Jack and taking a small step towards him. In a low voice he said, "I hope you don't think this inappropriate of me, Inspector, but I would like to express my gratitude at your insistence that Miss Fisher spend some time away somewhere safe. We have all been so worried about her lately."

Jack couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. Insistence? Mr Butler should have known better. Jack acknowledged Mr Butler's admission with a nod, surprised that he had confided his concerns about Phryne to him.

"And where will you go, Mr Butler?"

"I am off to stay with my sister for a while, to catch up with her family, my delightful great nieces and nephews in particular. If it wasn't for these unpleasant circumstances, I would say that I am grateful for a small break." Mr Butler smiled again and turned to mount the stairs. Jack gazed after him, wondering what it would be like to work for her. Difficult, he presumed, not because she was overbearing but because he believed that her staff deeply cared for her and would therefore spend considerable time, like he did, worrying.

Jack walked into the parlour to wait for Phryne, still feeling anxious about the days ahead. He sat down on her loveseat and stared vacantly into her fireplace. A few minutes later, Mr Butler returned from upstairs with Phryne close behind him.

"Jack!" she said affectionately, putting him at ease immediately. He smiled back at her fondly, rising to greet her. They looked at each other silently, casting their eyes over each other's chosen outfit for their journey. He had dressed casually: cotton pants and a collarless shirt, jumper and jacket. His hair was still damp from a recent bath and was unencumbered by the usual ointment he used to hold it immaculately in place; a small lock of hair was threatening to dry into a curl on his forehead. Phryne had also chosen well: comfortable pants, boots and a plain but warm looking blouse and not an adornment in sight, apart from a colourful shawl that she draped over her shoulders.

Mr Butler returned with a whiskey for each of them and then went to fetch her luggage. They both took a sip, eyeing each other. Phryne leant towards Jack and whispered conspiratorially, "You will be happy to know Jack, that Mr Butler has been busy all afternoon and evening preparing a hamper of goodies for my trip. We won't starve. Well, at least for the first couple of days, anyway."

Jack was considering a smart reply about her lack of faith in his abilities when Mr Butler arrived downstairs with two enormous cases of Phryne's belongings. He raised an eyebrow. "Planning on staying a month?" he asked, cocking his head to smile at Phryne.

"It's not all clothes, Jack. I have other essentials in there like sheets and a few good bottles of whiskey."

Jack managed a small laugh, pleased that they would have her good liquor for their stay. "Good to see you have your priorities right, Miss Fisher," he replied, just as Dot entered the parlour, and gave him a small smile.

Jack turned to Phryne. "I will take the car around the block a few times to see if I can spot anything suspicious. When I am sure that no-one is watching, I will park out the back so we can load up the car. I should only be a few minutes."

Jack swallowed his whiskey and turned to let himself out. Dot, Mr Butler and Phryne sprang into action. After a short time, Jack appeared at the back door, announcing the all-clear. The car was packed swiftly, Dot and Mr Butler said their emotional goodbyes and Jack and Phryne climbed into the car.

Jack started the car and slowly pulled away from the curb, both of them feeling anxious about their journey ahead. They both suspected that their holiday, as they liked to refer to it, would forever change their relationship, but with the tensions of the last few weeks and their growing attraction to each other, neither could say for certain that it would be for the better.

At least we'll be safe, Phryne presumed, as she turned her head to watch her house recede into the darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

_Again, thank you so much for your lovely reviews ...  
_

* * *

They had driven in silence for some miles and were on the outskirts of Melbourne when Phryne turned her head slightly to look at Jack, who was still scanning the road for suspicious activity. The crescent of the moon cast just enough light to see the outline of his chiselled features. She watched him for a short while, fascinated by the movements of his jaw. Even in the low light she could tell he was tense. Maybe now wasn't the best time to bring this up but she forged ahead anyway. "I know it's a bit late for conditions, Jack, but …," she broke off, thinking about the best way to proceed.

"Conditions, Miss Fisher?" he asked glancing at her. "What conditions?" He was clearly worried by what she was about to propose. "I agree, it is a bit late for that now," he added, worried that his plan could come undone before they had even left Melbourne.

Phryne turned her body towards him, tucking her right leg underneath her and putting her arm on the top of the seat. "Well, obviously I should have mentioned this before, Jack, but I was more than a little thrown by your offer and then distracted by the need to move quickly. This is something that is very important to me."

Jack swallowed, bracing himself for what could be another difficult conversation. "Go on," he prompted, staring at the road ahead.

Phryne smiled, sensing his unease. "Firstly, I want you to call me Phryne. All the time, not just when you are concerned or angry with me. Obviously there will be times when it is necessary to address me as Miss Fisher but not when we are alone."

Jack glanced at her and exhaled slowly, allowing his face to relax into a smile. He nodded his head slowly. "I can do that … _Phryne_," he added, drawing out her name and eliciting a grin from her. "And secondly?" he asked, knowing that she had left the serious request for last.

Phryne drew in a deep breath and continued. "I want us to talk, Jack, to really talk. If we are to be cooped up with each other then I want to feel like I can ask you questions. I want to get to know you better and what better opportunity to do this than this special place of yours?"

Jack contemplated Phryne's words. He had to acknowledge that despite their closeness he had not revealed too much of himself or his past. Although Phryne's understanding of him was pieced together from the snippets of himself that he occasionally revealed, usually after a whiskey or two in her parlour, he suspected that she had a better appreciation of what made him tick than just about anyone else. He turned to see her gazing intently at him. "All right, Phryne, let's talk but we both have to want it. You can't force someone to talk if they feel they are being coerced. I don't want to be interrogated."

"Is that what you think I will do? Interrogate you?" Phryne asked in disbelief. "I know I can't force you to talk, Jack," she said softly, looking at her hands in her lap, "but I want you to want to talk to me. That is what friends do," she continued, then added softly, "I worry that although we will be there together, I will feel utterly alone."

"Phryne," he said softly, glancing at her. He knew that admitting that she was worried about feeling lonely and isolated would have been hard for her and he suspected she was also worried about feeling out of place. "Please don't fret, we won't be _cooped up_ with each other and there will be plenty of time to talk. I'm not going to ignore you; we both know that you are impossible to ignore," he added, smiling.

Phryne huffed out a small laugh, grateful for his attempt to lighten the moment.

Jack focused on the road ahead, still checking for signs that someone might be following them. "It's late, why don't you try and get some sleep. We have a long drive ahead of us."

Phryne looked at Jack again and smiled. She was starting to feel more at ease than she had for the last few weeks and she felt the urge to continue. "All right Jack, I will try, but there is something I need to say first."

Jack again glanced at her, his smile slowly fading.

She took a breath and started on this first attempt at openness between them that she was so keen on cultivating. "I … I want you to know that I am sorry, Jack … about the argument that we had," she added quickly. She knew he would want her to acknowledge that what she had done was stupid and reckless but she did not want to broach _that_ subject again. The last time they did it was emotionally wrenching for both of them. "I feel terrible about not being there for you the last few weeks," she finally managed.

Jack, recognising the significance of the moment, braked slowly and brought the car to a stop on the side of the road. Phryne apologising for her actions and the effect they had on him was a new development in their relationship; one that he was thankful for, but also slightly uncomfortable with. He turned his body towards her to give her his full attention, his eyes seeking out hers in the muddy light.

"I should have contacted you," Phryne continued. "I wanted to but was afraid you would not want to talk to me. When I think of what you must have been feeling after all that happened, not knowing if you had anyone to talk to, I …" Phryne shook her head slowly and looked away, not knowing how to finish the sentence. She wanted to say that when he had told her of receiving his own threats her heart had ached for him. She was not about to give up what she did best, but she acknowledged that her insistence on pursuing her own venture that caused them to fight meant she had not known what he was going through, had not known what part Rosie was now playing in his life and she had not been there for him as a friend. Despite the tension between them caused by their argument, all she had wanted to do was go to him and gather him into her arms, to soothe him and let him know that everything would be fine and that she was there for him, always.

But she couldn't bring herself to say it. So much for openness, she ruefully thought to herself. She felt it was too soon for that sort of declaration so she settled for something more prosaic. She raised her head to look at him. "I want you to know that as your friend, I will always be there to talk if you need to. To listen, not to interrogate," she added, forcing a smile.

Jack leant a bit closer and took her hand. She looked wracked with remorse, no doubt exacerbated by the late hour and the stress of the last few weeks. He swallowed and thought of what to say. "Phryne," he started, also unsure of how to continue, "it's been a difficult few weeks for us both. I too am sorry about the argument. And I missed not being able to discuss our cases with you but it's all right, I'm all right now. I think the next few months will be difficult for me, so I am grateful that I can go to the country and I am happy that you agreed to come with me."

Jack was suddenly thankful for the dim light that denied Phryne the chance to properly read him by studying his face. He wasn't quite lying; he was certainly relieved that Phryne had agreed to accompany him but he was still unsure about how their relationship would be affected by this trip. They were both fleeing certain danger only to plunge headlong into dangerous uncertainty.

"We'll talk more," he continued, "but let's do it tomorrow. We have a long drive ahead of us."

Phryne nodded, thankful that their guarded admissions of regret had somewhat lightened the mood between them. Jack gave her a brief smile and released her hand, turning the wheel to pull onto the road.

They were doing that more often, she thought to herself: touching each other. They may have shared some angry words recently, but something had changed between them. They seemed closer and had touched each other more than usual today. Was the aborted kiss from a few weeks ago the catalyst that triggered the gradual dissolve of their reservations, allowing them to express their affections more freely? Feeling too tired to contemplate that one, Phryne reached behind her to get her pillow. She put it against the window and snuggled into it, trying to empty her mind of the last few weeks. Despite the turmoil she felt at the uncertainty of the days ahead, she eventually drifted into sleep.

* * *

Jack had been driving for hours and pulled over for a short stop about half way there to have a bit of a stretch and relieve himself. When he got back in the car he glanced at Phryne, who was pressed up against her pillow, fast asleep. He quietly shut the door and turned to look at her again. He smiled. She was snoring softly and looked so small, so vulnerable. This was the first time he had seen her asleep and he was unprepared for the depth of his feelings. He longed to touch her, to stroke her hair, to run his hand down her arm, to kiss her gently. He wanted to whisper in her ear that despite his anger and frustration with her, she was his closest friend; more than that, he loved her.

He blew out a breath. He was starting to feel overwhelmed by his thoughts and the tiredness that was threatening to overcome him. He awkwardly pulled off his jacket in the confined space and laid it gently across her shoulders. He rubbed his face with both hands and forcing himself to focus on the drive ahead, he started the car and continued the journey.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thank you lovely readers for your reviews and words of encouragement. It has been very satisfying to write this, to get it out of my head and I am so pleased that you are enjoying it too._

_I hope you are coping with the slow pace of this story. It seems appropriate for the two of them, I think, given the slow burn of their relationship._

_FYI, the Shakespeare quote is from _The Merchant of Venice_._

* * *

Jack braked gently as they came to the bend in the road that signalled the nearness of the property. Continuing slowly through the mist, he scanned the dark road ahead for the turnoff to the homestead. The mailbox at the entrance to the drive was illuminated by the car lamps and he felt a small of twinge of excitement, just as he did as a boy, knowing that his country adventure was about to begin. Confident that no-one knew of their whereabouts, he turned into the drive and slowly continued to the homestead.

He wound down his window and sniffed the brisk, eucalyptus-laced air. Memories of his childhood blew over him, lifting his spirits and ruffling his hair. He couldn't help but smile, already feeling more at ease than he had in a long time. He glanced at Phryne, who was propped up against her pillow, fast asleep. He was finally thankful that she had agreed to accompany him.

The homestead emerged slowly from the mist and loomed before him. Although he had done this drive many times, he was transfixed as the familiar features revealed themselves in the light from the car. He pulled to a stop just in front of the porch, gently pulling on the handbrake and quietly opening the car door. He stood and stretched and looked at his watch: just on three. He stood there in the stillness and quiet to drink in this house, this place of happiness.

_… __soft stillness and the night  
Become the touches of sweet harmony …_

Shakespeare. He had always loved that line and couldn't think of a better way to describe this special time of darkness, which he had cherished in the years after the war. It was his time for solitude and deep contemplation, where he could distance himself from the war at home, which bombarded him with torment and battles and disapproving looks, and retreat into the past. It allowed him, finally, to be completely himself and only then could he heal. Nothing was expected of him when he sat in his yard in the dead of night with only the chirruping crickets for company. Here, he unashamedly wallowed in the horrific images that inevitably haunted him, giving freely to tears until he crawled exhausted and alone into bed, knowing he had temporarily quietened his ghosts.

Feeling the familiar pull of the hour, he closed his eyes to let the stillness pervade him and noticed that he was starting to sway. Suddenly overcome with exhaustion, he longed to climb into bed, to put the day behind him. He glanced at Phryne to see if she was still asleep and shuffled to the porch to unlock the door, flicking on the lights in the entrance hall and a lamp in the living room, allowing himself a quick perusal to make sure nothing had changed. Satisfied, he went back outside to collect their luggage from the car, still careful not to wake her.

After depositing his case in his room, he decided to put Phryne in the larger of the guest rooms next to his. It contained a large brass bed, was close to the bathroom and there was a lovely view out the window to the hills beyond. He knew Phryne had brought her own sheets, which were no doubt superior to the ones on the bed, so he went to her suitcases to find them. He undid the buckles and paused, suddenly uncomfortable with the idea of rifling through her belongings. Confident that she wouldn't mind, he flipped open the lid. The sheets sat neatly on top, no doubt packed by the ever-practical Dot, who would have known that her sheets would have been the first thing needed upon arrival in the early hours of the morning. Jack smiled, almost disappointed that he wouldn't get to rummage through her underwear.

He quickly made the bed and turned to wake Phryne. He froze and drew in a sharp breath. She was leaning quietly against the door frame, watching him, her hair in disarray and her face creased from sleep. She had put on his jacket, the cuffs extending beyond her arms, which she had tucked around her body.

Jack let out his breath. "Phryne, you scared the living daylights out of me!"

"Did you think I was a ghost, Jack? A house this old with all its history might harbour a spectre or two," she said smiling, gesturing towards the rest of the house with her head.

"Hardly, more like an escapee from the local asylum," he answered cheekily, raising his eyebrows and looking at her wayward hair. He walked towards her and grabbed hold of the arms of his jacket, lifting them up and away from her to sway the cuffs that extended beyond her hands. "You could have been wearing a straitjacket." He let go of her arms and they dropped to her sides, causing Phryne to grin at his unexpected playfulness. "I hope you don't mind," he continued, gesturing towards the bed, "I took the liberty of taking your sheets from your suitcase so I could make your bed for you. I was just coming to wake you."

"Of course I don't mind, Jack," she said, still smiling and smoothing down her hair. She walked towards her luggage, rolling the cuffs of his jacket. "That was very thoughtful of you," she said, rummaging through her belongings, "especially given how much I have slept and how tired you must be after the drive. Let's unpack the rest of the car quickly and I will make you tea." Phryne located one of the bottles of whiskey that Mr Butler had placed in her bag for protection on the journey. She held it aloft as if to tempt him, "Unless you would prefer a nightcap."

Jack looked longingly at the whiskey. "It's late, Phryne, I should unpack the rest of the things first. Your bed is ready so you can get some more sleep."

"Nonsense!" Phryne huffed. "You are not here to wait on me, Jack, and I am feeling quite awake now. Here, let's have a small drink to celebrate our arrival, and then we can both empty the car. It will be faster that way and then I can get you into bed …" Phryne faltered, aware of the unintended double entendre of her remark, "… you must be exhausted," she added awkwardly.

Jack twisted his lips to hide his smirk. "All right, just a small one. My bed already has sheets, so there's not much else to do besides bringing in Mr Butler's supplies. Let's go and toast the beginning of our holiday."

Phryne beamed at him and walked to the kitchen to root around for some glasses, refreshed from her snooze in the car and feeling strangely upbeat about the days ahead, their angry exchange in her parlour already forgotten. She took the glasses and whiskey to the living room and poured them a drink while Jack went back to the car to retrieve the rest of their belongings.

The car now empty, Jack carried the heavy hamper to the kitchen and placed it on the large table. He opened the lid and looked for something to eat, suddenly famished. "Are you hungry, Phryne?" he called.

Phryne joined him in the kitchen. "Actually I am, Jack. What do we have here?" They rummaged in the hamper together, like excited children at a lucky dip, discussing the suitability of the food they discovered until they came across some cake.

"Perfect," Jack said, turning and collecting some plates. They took the cake and a knife to the living room and settled themselves into one of the large lounges positioned around a low coffee table in front of an enormous fireplace.

Although there were three lounges to choose from, they sat together: Jack at one end and Phryne close to the middle. Jack was surprised by how near she had seated herself to him, but he felt comfortable with her closeness and kicked off his shoes to put his feet on the coffee table, stretching out and pushing back into the lounge.

Phryne smiled to herself, marvelling at how quickly Jack had relaxed here. She handed him a plate with a piece of cake, which he bit into greedily, chewing slowly and smiling from the deliciousness of it. "I do believe it's a citron pound cake," Phryne explained, "and knowing Mr Butler, it was made with a fair slug of brandy."

"I'll drink to that," Jack said, his mouth full, lifting his glass for a toast.

She raised her glass and added, "To cake and whiskey." They clinked glasses and looked at each other, both feeling like they were being drawn into one of their meaningful gazes.

Jack seemed to sober slightly and added, "And to safety, and good country air." Phryne smiled, again clinking her glass with his. They ate in silence for a few moments. Jack downed his whiskey and placed his empty glass and plate on the table. He leant back and closed his eyes, sighing softly.

Phryne picked up the empty plates and glasses and took them back to the kitchen. When she returned to the couch, Jack was still stretched out, hands in his lap and eyes closed, his head turned slightly towards her. She watched him for a short while, wondering if he had fallen asleep.

"Jack?" she said quietly. He didn't answer. Phryne prodded him softly. "Are you awake?" When he didn't respond, she decided to leave him there until she had packed away the rest of the food and was ready to go to bed herself. It was comforting to have him close by, even if he was asleep.

She busied herself in the kitchen, trying to distract herself from her desire to snoop in all the rooms to acquaint herself with Jack's past and the history of the place. She had already decided that she liked this house; a quick glance around the rooms she had moved through had revealed a much-loved family home. A vase of flowers, although a bit past their prime, had greeted them in the entrance hall, the rooms seemed to be dust free and well appointed and the walls were festooned with photographs and art. The mantelpiece in the enormous living room was crowded with what looked like relics from nature: bleached animal bones, birds' nests, and artfully arranged twigs covered in lichen. The kitchen was large and seemed to be well stocked and she was amazed to see the latest model refrigerator. Who in his family could afford that? She realised how little she knew about him or his family. She would ask Jack for a tour in the morning, suspecting he would happily oblige.

After packing the supplies away, she made her way back to the lounge room. Jack had not moved. She knelt on the edge of the lounge and gave his shoulder a gentle shake. "Jack, wake up, time for bed." There was no response. She tugged a little harder at him. "Jack!" He opened his eyes and gave her a glassy-eyed look. "Time for bed, Jack. Come on."

He stirred and sat up, but instead of standing he flopped sideways onto the couch, bringing his legs up to push himself up the other end so he could stretch out, grabbing a cushion for a pillow.

"Jack, no, wake up, you'll be more comfortable in bed." Phryne reached over again and shook his shoulder. Sighing in defeat, she sat next to him, close but not touching, feeling the warmth from his thighs on her back. She looked at him sleeping. His left arm was curled under the cushion supporting his head, his right arm was extended along his body. His mouth was slightly open, his features relaxed. Gone was that slight frown he seemed to carry with him lately.

She tugged at his shoulder again, more forceful this time. "Jaaaack, wake up. You'll be more comfortable in your bed."

"Mmpf."

He seemed to be coming to so she shook him more forcibly. "Jack, come on, let's get you up and in bed."

Jack stirred, looked at Phryne and mumbled something incoherent. "Stay here … fire …"

Phryne leant forward and shook him again. "What, Jack?"

"_Phryne_," he whispered, drawing out her name, his eyes still closed. He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her into his folded body.

Phryne froze, her eyes wide, not knowing what to do or say. She was firmly pressed against his abdomen and groin.

Jack made soft guttural noises as he snuggled into her. Phryne held her breath and waited to see what he would do next. He stilled and started to breathe heavily again, relaxing into a deep sleep and loosening the grip on her waist. His hand slowly slid down, wedging between his thighs and her backside.

Phryne noticed that her heart was beating a little faster. For one thrilling second she thought he was going to seduce her. She removed her arm from the back of the lounge, which she had placed there to brace herself against his sudden pull and placed it softly along his body, her hand on his shoulder. He wouldn't be waking up any time soon, she was sure of that now, so she allowed herself some time pressed up against him, her thumb softly caressing his shoulder.

She had stolen furtive glances at him in the past, he was an attractive man after all, but now she had an opportunity to really take him in and she allowed her eyes to roam freely over his body. She gazed at his handsome features. She had always appreciated the male form, a particularly good specimen invoking urges in her that she usually managed to satisfy. She smiled, Jack Robinson was a _very_ good specimen.

She reached out and pushed back the hair from his forehead, her fingertips gently brushing his skin. Her eyes moved from his thickly lashed eyelids to his parted lips and she fought the urge to bend forward and kiss him. She looked away sharply in an attempt to quell her growing desire. She had always found him attractive, even more so as they had grown closer, but a dalliance was out of the question; she cared for him too much and it could jeopardise their friendship and professional relationship, which were very valuable to her. Besides, he had already declared his deep affection for her and the pain that it caused him, so she knew he would never agree to a night or two in her bed. So why then had he moved to kiss her? Had she misread his actions? Phryne thought not: she knew intent when she saw it.

She sighed and attempted to push aside her complicated thoughts but without a distraction she found herself again drawn to his body. He was so lean, more so than usual, no doubt due to the stress of the last few weeks. She twisted to look at his hand resting gently against her backside. It was large and masculine; strong looking but elegant with long, tanned fingers.

The whiskey was having an effect on her now and she let down her guard, shifting a little to place her hand on his forearm, running her fingertips slowly down his arm to lightly trace the prominent veins of his hand. Her gentle strokes, the whiskey and the heat from his body increased her arousal. She imagined his hands touching her, moving slowly up her bare skin, caressing her and pulling her closer …

She was breathing heavily now and the noise of her breaths in the quiet of the night brought her back to her senses. She rose abruptly, feeling embarrassed and smoothed down her clothes, as if to brush away her lascivious thoughts. She needed to get to sleep too and went to fetch him a blanket. She gently placed it over his body, tucking it in around him. With a deep breath and another brief caress of his hair, she pushed aside all previous thoughts, turned off the lamp and took herself off to prepare for bed.


	5. Chapter 5

_I was curious about Jack's knowledge of mistletoes (even if the genus he attributed to the mistletoe in the Christmas special was European - tut tut MFMM), so I wove it into my story._

_This is a longish chapter as I am about to get ridiculously busy and may not be able to post another chapter for a few weeks. I will try. _

_Thanks again for taking the time to leave me a review. I am always delighted to get them._

* * *

Phryne woke to the sound of a quiet knock on her door. "Good morning, Jack" she said sleepily, stretching. "Come in."

Jack opened the door and stood there with a cup of tea in his hand. "I wasn't sure if you were awake," he said, peering at her in the darkened room. He saw his jacket slung over the end of the bed.

"Well, I am now," she said smiling.

"I thought you might like a cup of tea," he said, clearly uncomfortable about entering her room.

Phryne sat up a little. "Oh, how lovely, Jack! Please come in. Did you sleep well?"

"I did," Jack answered smirking, walking into her room and placing the cup of tea on her bedside table, trying not to look at her in her nightie. "I see I didn't make it to my bed last night."

"No, although you can't blame me for not trying, I tried to wake you several times."

Jack nodded, "I must have been fast asleep, I don't recall a thing," he said, glancing at her with a smile.

"If my translation of mumble is correct, you said you wanted to stay in front of the fire."

"Ah," Jack nodded, looking a little worried that he had talked in his sleep. "I used to love sleeping in front of the fire when I was a boy, surrounded by my family. There's nothing quite as comforting as falling asleep listening to chatter. Did I say anything else?"

Phryne smiled, "No, just a few grunts. Have you been up for a while, Jack?" she asked quickly, changing the subject to avoid the memory of last night and a possible blush. "What time is it?"

"Almost eleven, and I have been awake just long enough to have a cup of tea and then make you one, so I am feeling quite refreshed."

"Did you wake me because you were bored?" she said, smiling up at him cheekily. Jack looked at her properly now, taking her in with as much of a neutral expression as he could muster. She was propped up on her elbows, her face was free of all makeup and slightly swollen from sleep, her hair in glorious disarray. He thought she looked utterly beautiful.

Suddenly aware he was gazing at her, he strode to the window and drew back the curtains with a flick of his wrists. "No, I am never bored here but I am looking forward to taking you on a tour of the property. It is a beautiful morning," he said, turning to face her and watching her squint from the sudden brightness of the room.

Phryne looked out the window. The wooded hills in the distance were framed by a large gum tree. She could see glimpses of the blue of the sky between the branches. "What a lovely view!" she exclaimed, her eyes bright. "A walk sounds lovely Jack. I am looking forward to you showing me around, starting with this lovely house of yours."

Jack's heart skipped a beat at her comforting words and he smiled at her, wondering if she would ever know how much that meant to him. He watched her reach for her cup of tea, her satin nightie stretching tightly across her chest, revealing the outline of her breasts. He exhaled heavily and turned to look out the window, pretending to contemplate the weather. This gave Phryne a chance to sneak a peek at his own delightful dishevelment. They were silent for a few moments, both lost in thought, moved by seeing each other looking sleepy and tousled.

Jack broke their silence, "I suspect it may be a hot one, so I thought we could have stroll to the creek, maybe even have a picnic lunch there, and a swim if you feel up to it."

Phryne's eyes widened in delight. "I would love to go for a swim, Jack," she enthused, her mind full of memories of Jack in his swimsuit. "So tell me," she said slowly in a low voice, looking at him seductively, "do we need to wear swimsuits or is skinny-dipping encouraged in this creek of yours?"

If Jack was in any way flustered with the idea of Phryne in the nude (which he most definitely was), he didn't show it. He knew she was baiting him and raised an eyebrow at her; two could play that game. "I will be wearing my swimsuit, Phryne, but you may do as you please," he calmly responded. "You are on holiday after all and the creek is very private." He cocked his head at her and gave her a suggestive smile.

Phryne felt the blood drain from her extremities and she leant back against the bedhead.

Jack couldn't help but smirk, "I'll let you get dressed," he said quietly as he walked out the door, enjoying this game and feeling more than a little smug that he had rendered her speechless. He shut the door behind him, leaving Phryne to ponder this new playful Jack.

Phryne skipped out of bed and dressed. She decided to wear a plain sleeveless dress that came to just below the knee. She chose sandals but didn't put them on, deciding to test the boundaries of their new relaxed arrangement and go barefoot in the house. She pulled out her toiletries bag and placed it on the dressing table. She sat on the stool and looked at her reflection, smiling at the thought of Jack seeing her now and last night with her hair all askew. She didn't bother with perfume or make-up, but dragged a brush through her hair, taming it into her more familiar bob.

Phryne opened her door and walked down a short corridor to the living room. She stopped and looked in wonder at the transformation. The lamp last night had cast a soft glow over the lounge where they sat but the rest of the large room remained quite dark. The two sets of full-length curtains that were drawn last night on what she presumed were windows were pulled aside to reveal two sets of French doors, now wide open and leading to a large verandah that was raised about head height off the ground. Jack was seated in a white wicker lounge, his feet up on a low table, a thick book in his lap held open by the splay of his left hand. His right arm was resting on the arm of the chair. His hand was relaxed and dangling over the edge, accentuating the veins that Phryne had caressed with her fingers the night before. He wasn't reading but was staring off into the distance, his body angled away from her so only his jawline and outline of the right side of his face was visible. His wayward hair tumbled over his forehead.

Phryne was so taken with the scene that she padded softly back to her room to retrieve a brown leather case from her bag. She opened it and removed her camera, quickly and quietly making her way back to the living room in the hope that he hadn't moved. She was in luck.

She got herself in position, looked through the view finder and twiddled some knobs.

_Click_.

Jack immediately turned to see what the noise was. "Sneaking up on me and taking photographs, Phryne?" he asked with mock indignation.

"Singular, Jack. I only took the one. And don't worry," she teased, "I got your good side."

Jack snorted a laugh, flashing a rare grin. "I wasn't aware that I had a _bad_ side. I'll have to make sure that I keep you on my right at all times."

"At all times, Jack?" Phryne asked sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

Jack tilted his head to look up at her through slightly squinted eyes and smiled. "May I see your camera?" he asked, closing his book and extending his arm to her.

"Of course, it's the latest model Leica. Not too many people in Australia would have one of these," she gloated, passing it to him. "Are you interested in photography, Jack?" she asked, moving to sit next to him on the lounge.

"That depends on the subject matter, Phryne" he answered, letting his gaze linger on her longer than necessary. "I am not fond of mugshots, but I appreciate photography as an emerging art form."

Phryne watched Jack explore her new camera and then turned away to take in the view. It really was very beautiful. The gentle, grassy slope in front of the house merged seamlessly into sparsely treed woodland. Further down the hill the trees became denser and taller, until the terrain rose sharply into a steep, wooded hill with large outcrops of rocks.

"Jack, you were right, this is so picturesque! I can see why you like to escape the city for some quiet time here."

"It's not just the city I escape from when I am here, Phryne," he said enigmatically, giving her one of his meaningful looks, "and yes, it is very special."

"Well then," she said suddenly, slapping her thighs. "I am starving, so how about you take some photographs of this beautiful view for me while I prepare something to eat. Can I tempt you with another cup of tea, toast and Mr Butler's apricot jam?"

"Thank you, that would be lovely. I think after eating we should have a quick tour and then a late lunch by the creek. Are you still up for a swim?"

"Just you try and stop me, Jack Robinson!"

* * *

Jack walked down the steps of the porch to stop by the car, turning to face the house. Phryne followed, still without shoes and wincing at the sharpness of the stones on the drive. When she reached him, she turned to look at the house.

It was low and wide, built from the local bluestone with sandstone trim around the doors and tall windows. Climbing roses, heavily in bloom wound up the wooden posts that supported the corrugated iron roof that extended over a deep porch. There were two garden beds either side of the drive in front of the house that were full of plants that looked a bit tired, as if they had endured a tortuous summer.

Phryne smiled, "Jack, it is utterly charming!"

Jack grinned, clearly delighted. "My mother's parents built it in the late '50s after emigrating here from Scotland in search of gold."

"They were some of the lucky ones?" Phryne asked, intrigued.

Jack nodded. "Yes, my grandfather hit a seam and made a small fortune. Enough to build this house, which they set up as a guest house after the gold dried up. My grandmother loved this place, particularly the mineral springs and saw a business opportunity. She went to Melbourne to advertise the guest house and the supposed healing properties of the nearby natural springs and they had a steady stream of visitors and income for most of their lives."

Phryne looked at the name plate next to the door. "Ulumbarra," she said slowly. "Sounds like an Aboriginal word. I would imagine it would have been unusual to use an Aboriginal word to name a homestead. What does it mean?"

"Yes, it is an Aboriginal word. It means 'meeting place' in the local language, although I like to think of it as a place where people come together. My father met my mother here. He was working for the government surveying the surrounding land for timber and stayed here as a guest. They discovered they shared an interest in the country and fell in love. Luckily for us, they came back here regularly with their children and now their grandchildren. That's what this house did: it brought people together." Jack paused, looked at Phryne and smiled. "It still does."

Phryne looked up at him fondly. She had not expected to feel so comfortable here, alone with him in his family's home. She had worried that he would be awkward and reticent, resentful that she was holding him back from being himself and denying him the chance to truly relax. She was surprised and delighted by how quickly he did relax here, as if he had suspended his guarded and sombre personae with the coats by the door, where they hung, not entirely discarded, for him to slip into if needed. It was barely day two of their time here together and she had found him to be playful and unexpectedly flirtatious. She was feeling more drawn to him now than ever.

"My mother was heartbroken to leave here and live in Melbourne but they travelled back here regularly," Jack continued, oblivious to Phryne's ponderings. "As children, we spent most of our holidays here. We were lovingly neglected and spent most of the time exploring the bush or swimming in the creek. My mother is a botanical illustrator and when she came here with us she would take me along on her expeditions to collect specimens for her drawings. I was the only one she took as my brothers and sister were older and louder and more interested in other things like reading or tormenting the wildlife." Jack smiled and turned to Phryne. "It made me feel special," he added quietly.

Phryne was moved by Jack's recounting of his happy childhood and again reflected on the change in him since being here. In the time she had known him, apart from the time at this house, she had not seen him laugh out loud and had wondered if he had also suffered as a child. She was so pleased to learn he had grown up in a happy, loving household.

"Your childhood sounds lovely, Jack. How lucky you are that you are still be able to come here and bask in those memories."

Jack smiled back at her. "Yes, it helped after the war but I didn't get here as often as I wanted to. Rosie hated this place."

"Oh Jack," Phryne said softly, and reached out to briefly squeeze his hand. "What's to hate?" she asked incredulously.

Jack smiled at her and shrugged. "Towards the end of our marriage I think she realised that I loved being here more than with her. Anyway," he continued, not wanting to think about Rosie or her present predicament, "my parents renamed the house after my grandparents died to honour the local Aboriginal people. My mother struck up an enduring friendship with some of them and she learnt a lot from them about the plants she sketched: their Aboriginal names, how they used them, which ones were edible and which were poisonous."

Phryne remembered the drawings when she came in late last night. "Did she do the drawings in the entrance hall?"

Yes," Jack answered, moving towards the house to show Phryne his mother's art. Jack stopped in front of one that was just inside the door. "This is my favourite," he said. "I have made my mother promise me that she will never sell it."

"She sells them?" Phryne asked, intrigued.

"Yes, they are quite collectible now and she fetches good prices for them. Now that she is retired, she is slowly selling them off to pay for the upkeep of the house and their retirement. It is a shame to see them go but I am heartened that other people can enjoy them now. She has a few in the State Library and the herbarium at the Botanical Gardens in Melbourne."

Phryne looked at the drawing more closely. "Such exquisite detail!" she whispered, running her fingers over the frame.

Jack was clearly moved by Phryne's appreciation of his mother's art. "She is considered one of the best botanical artists in Victoria," he said proudly.

"And did you or any of your siblings inherit your mother's skill?" Phryne asked, watching him closely. Jack looked awkward, "I used to draw a bit when I was younger," he finally managed.

Phryne decided not to press him on that and turned to look again at the drawing. "The leaves look, to my untrained eye, like gum leaves, except the flowers are all wrong."

Jack smiled. "Well spotted, Phryne. It's not a gum tree but a mistletoe, the one in the tree outside your window, in fact. Many of the mistletoes in Australia mimic their hosts, which is why they look like gum leaves. I find this fascinating."

Phryne raised her eyebrows. "Hosts? The trees don't exactly have a choice, Jack. The poor things have unwanted parasites that can't be dislodged; something the tree is shackled with forever, suffocating and sucking the life out of them. How awful! Do they kill the trees?" she asked, curious now about something she had always taken for granted.

Jack looked at Phryne and thought about her words. How like Phryne to see it that way. He turned to look wistfully at the drawing. "The mistletoe is hemiparasitic, actually, so it doesn't draw all its sustenance from the tree. And no, it's not in the mistletoe's interest to kill the tree. If the tree dies the mistletoe dies too." Botany lesson over, he turned to Phryne and added, "I don't see the mistletoe the way you do. I see a marriage, or partnership if you like: the tree having the strength to support the mistletoe, assisting it to exist, different entities joined by the need to survive. And besides," he said looking again at the drawing, "the flowers are very beautiful and the birds love them."

Phryne turned to face him with a look of surprise on her face. "And here I am, Jack Robinson, thinking that your romantic musings would be limited to Shakespeare. Did the Bard write about mistletoe?" she asked, teasingly.

Jack took a deep breath and stretched out one arm, as if he were about to deliver a sonnet, and said in mock seriousness, "_The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, overcome with moss and baleful mistletoe."_

Phryne roared with laughter. "Oh Jack, it seems that even Shakespeare is on my side."

Jack smiled, delighted to make her laugh like that. "Yes, I agree, it's not the most flattering portrayal of mistletoe. Even I thought I could do better than that."

"You think you could write a better poem than Shakespeare?" Phryne teased, stepping closer to him.

Jack watched her sidle up to him with a small smirk on his face. He knew what she was doing: hoping to ruffle him with her closeness like she did in the past when she sought the upper hand in a discussion that was not going her way. He leaned in even closer, their noses almost touching. "I think I could write a more romantic poem about mistletoe, not necessarily a better one, Phryne," he whispered, enjoying watching her eyes widen with surprise.

Phryne took a small step away, letting out a breath and sticking her chin out. "Well then, there's your challenge, Jack. If you can write a romantic ode to mistletoe, then I will change how I feel about it. In fact," she added, arching one eyebrow, "I rather think you may have already destroyed the romance of mistletoe for me: I will always see it as a botanical oddity rather than an opportunity to elicit a kiss from an unsuspecting victim."

Jack took a step towards her, closing the gap again. "Have you lost your sense of romance, Phryne?" Jack paused and raised an eyebrow at her, "Don't worry, I'm quite sure it could be restored with just the right kiss." Jack smiled, turning to walk away for the rest of the tour. He stopped at the door to the living room and turned to see her standing there, staring at him.

"Are you coming, Phryne?"


	6. Chapter 6

_Phew! I made it through my difficult patch ..._

_This chapter is for RCGgymratmom, and anyone else that has had the good fortune to spend some time at a country retreat._

* * *

Jack spent the next half hour or so showing Phryne photographs of his family. They were scattered all over the house so Jack led her from room to charming room to introduce her to all his siblings (all older: two brothers, Walter and Daniel, and a sister, Grace), his parents (Catherine and James) and grandparents (Emily and Charles), uncles and aunts and (eight) nieces and nephews. She was amazed to see how closely he resembled his mother and wondered if they were alike in personality. She left this question for another time as she was eager to go for a swim.

"Come on Jack, let's go for a swim. I have been looking forward to this all morning. If you find me a small basket, I will make us some sandwiches."

Jack didn't need much convincing and sprang into action. After finding a basket for Phryne, he took himself off to his room to change into his swimsuit. He shut the door behind him and sat on the edge of the bed, needing a moment or two to reflect on the morning.

Jack smiled as he relived some of their earlier conversations. Their intellectual sparring was a central part of their relationship and had slowly changed over time to become more personal and flirtatious as they got to know each other better. Although he had relished seeing her uncharacteristically flustered by his suggestiveness this morning, he had surprised himself and wondered if he had gone too far. He had let down his guard with her, he knew that, but he was unsure exactly what had managed to loosen his emotional armour, which over the years had become so rusted on it was in danger of becoming a permanent fixture. Was it just that he was here? This house, this place, always made him feel less vulnerable and more alive, but there was something else: something had changed between the two of them. He didn't have a lot of experience with lovers but he was a damn good detective and it had not escaped his attention that she was looking at him differently lately. Not to mention those spine-tingling touches, which were happening more often than usual.

He knew she was fond of him and enjoyed his company — she wouldn't have invited him into her parlour all those nights for a whiskey and a game of chequers if she wasn't — but was it possible that her feelings for him had changed? For the first time since he had known her, he thought it possible that she might be capable of loving him. The dangerous combination of this revelation, his aching desire for her, which seemed to intensify the moment he had arrived at the homestead, his waning resolve and being alone in the house together meant that he was doing all that he could to resist pulling her into his arms for a kiss.

He sighed. And now they were going to the creek for a swim. If there was anything that was going to test his fragile resolve, it was this. With a fair dose of trepidation, he got off the bed to change.

* * *

Jack and Phryne walked down to the creek with their towels slung over their shoulders. Jack was carrying a small picnic basket while Phryne carried their picnic rug. Phryne talked about her concern for Mr Butler, Dot and Jane as they walked arm-in-arm through the tall grass of the paddock. She was eager to know if they were all safe.

"Don't worry, Phryne," Jack said softly, "I am sure they are fine. I asked Collins to make sure they got off safely and gave him instructions to call Mrs Stanley that morning to make sure Jane was safe too. And Miss Williams and Mr Butler agreed to call Collins after they had arrived safely. I was planning on cycling into town after our swim to ring the station to check on everyone and the progress of your case."

Phryne smiled up at him. She was moved that he had planned this so thoroughly so she wouldn't worry. She let out a sigh of relief that she would soon know they would be safe and squeezed his arm affectionately. "Thank you, Jack, that is very good of you."

After a short while they came to a wooden fence at the edge of the woodland. Jack put down the basket and climbed over with an ease that revealed years of practice. Phryne handed him the basket and rug and climbed up, taking Jack's hand at the top, not because she needed his assistance, but because she wanted to continue their contact. She nimbly jumped down, landing softly beside him. They allowed their hands to stay entwined for a short while as Jack led the way, until the narrow track forced them to walk in single file and they slowly and reluctantly untangled their fingers. After a short while, the track widened, allowing them to walk closely side-by-side again, their shoulders and arms occasionally bumping.

Phryne was taken aback by the beauty of the woodland. The tea-trees that grew either side of the well-maintained track grew up and over, their canopies merging to create a tunnel effect with enough dappled light to support a sparse grassy understory. The occasional tall gum trees had beautiful white trunks marked with intricate and decorative lines made by insects. Small birds tweeted softly around them, their calls growing shrill as they neared, and delicate ferns grew in pockets of dampness. The occasional mauve daisy bloomed between the tussocks of grass.

Phryne stopped and slowly turned around, taking in this beautiful place. She turned to Jack, her eyes were shining and she had a wide smile on her face. "Jack, this is absolutely beautiful!"

"It most certainly is, Phryne," Jack said, smiling back at her. He was immensely relieved that she felt comfortable here, more than that, she seemed to delight in this place and he couldn't stop his smile from spreading into a grin.

They walked along in silence for a short while, both enjoying their closeness and the sounds and smells of the bush. Phryne could hear water up ahead and turned to Jack excitedly. "I can hear the creek, Jack! It must be close."

Jack's heart melted at her childlike enthusiasm and he watched her jog a short distance ahead, stopping at the break in the tea-trees to take in the view. A small, flowing creek cascaded through large rocks to fall a short distance into a clear pool that was about the size of her parlour. Trees lined the banks with overhanging branches that provided shade on part of the pool. Ferns grew under the trees, softening the edge of the creek. The water was tea coloured and clear and Phryne could see pebbles lining the bottom. Small schools of fish darted in and out of the shadows.

Phryne spun around to face Jack. "We're here!" she exclaimed. "And it is more beautiful than I imagined." She looked at Jack with wide eyes then suddenly smirked. "Last one in is a rotten egg!" She turned on her heels and raced to the clearing by the pool to undress.

Jack was caught off guard by her unexpected playful challenge but recovered quickly to race after her, his long strides allowing him to make good ground. As he reached Phryne, she had already pulled off her dress and was leaning over to work on her shoes. Jack dumped the rug and basket and pulled off his shirt, levering his shoes off his feet at the same time. They were huffing and giggling as they struggled to undress, both determined to be the first one in. Phryne was finally free of her shoes and socks just as Jack was about to take off his trousers. Seeing that she was about to make a run for the creek, he pushed her backwards and she toppled, wide eyed in shock, onto her backside.

Phryne gasped. "Jack, you dirty scoundrel!"

Jack was grinning now as he stepped out of his trousers and turned to run to the creek. Phryne stuck out her foot, tripping him and sending him flying face down onto the grass. Phryne jumped up, whooping in delight and raced to the creek, managing to avoid his desperate grab at her ankles. She raised her arms in victory as she ran into the shallows, where she froze and gasped at the coldness of the water.

She started to turn to speak. "Jack, the water is freez …" She suddenly felt his arms wrap around her and the momentum of his run tumbled them into the water. They surfaced, spluttering and gasping from the shock of the cold. Phryne's hair was plastered on her face. She pushed it back and Jack was relieved to see her grinning. She squealed in delight and pushed at the water with both hands, sending a spray into his face. Jack chuckled and grinned from ear-to-ear, smoothing down his hair. Phryne was still a little surprised by his tactics, but she couldn't help but smile at him looking so happy. He really was lovely when he smiled like that. It was worth the shock and the cold just to see him like this.

They stood close to each other in the pool, laughing and getting their breath back. Jack slowly moved closer to her, half expecting her to splash him again. She looked longingly at his broad shoulders just out of the water, his hair pushed back off his face. He really was gorgeous.

"You surprise me, Jack. I wouldn't have thought you were a win-at-all-cost man and I certainly didn't expect you to play dirty."

"Whatever do you mean, Phryne?" he asked in mock indignation. "I helped you get into cold water, and don't forget that you also played dirty and tripped me, so I think we are even. And, we both made it into the water at the same time, so neither of us is the rotten egg; fair play, I say."

Phryne huffed at him playfully, "I believe you pushed me first, Jack, and if that was fair play then I would really like to see you play dirty." She looked up at him through lowered lashes, a small smirk on her face.

Ah, flirting again, Jack thought. They seemed to be unable to have a conversation nowadays without some element of suggestiveness. Jack looked at her quietly, entranced by how lovely she looked with her hair slicked back. This was Phryne at her most pure; she had nothing to hide behind here in the pool: no clothes, no fineries, no perfume, no distractions. They stood in the water a short distance apart, gazing fondly at each other, both of them wanting to pull the other into their arms, to touch their skin with their own and feel the warmth of their bodies pressed up against each other.

Jack felt the first tingle of arousal and sighed quietly, pushing back to float, feeling the need to break the spell of their gaze and thankful for the extra layer provided by the modesty flap on his bathers. He stretched out his arms and put his head low in the water as he distracted himself by gazing at the trees that grew out over the pool.

Phryne watched him silently, unable to drag her eyes from his body. She swam up to him and turned to float next to him. Jack turned his head to take her in; her alabaster skin contrasted beautifully against the weak tea-coloured water and he found himself having to look away again.

Phryne turned to him. "You are forgiven, Jack ... for now," she added as he turned his head to look at her, narrowing her eyes at him in mock threat as she started to drift away from him in the slow current. "Luckily for you I am too distracted by how beautiful it is here to think about revenge," she continued, "I feel like I am floating in paradise."

"I am glad you like it, Phryne," he said, reaching out for her hand to slowly bringing her closer. "There is something special about floating, isn't there? It's hard to feel worried about anything when you are utterly weightless. When I came here with my brothers and sister and sometimes cousins, we would all come down here together and hold hands to float in a big circle so we could drift together in the current. It's actually harder than you think."

"Show me," she said softly.

Jack looked at her for a few moments before releasing her hand to stand and move behind her. He again pushed back to float, the tops of their heads almost touching. He stretched out his arms, which were bent at the elbows.

"Put your arms out, Phryne, and give me your hands. The trick is to relax so we don't drag each other's hands under the water."

Phryne turned her head to see where his hands were, gently holding them and relaxing her arms. They stayed like this for a few minutes, neither willing to say anything that would break the magic of floating in this beautiful place, alone, hand-in-hand. Phryne felt herself move closer to Jack. Was it the current or was he pulling her closer? They slowly drew nearer, Jack manoeuvring her so they floated with their heads side by side. They turned to look at each other. Jack noticed that Phryne was starting to shiver.

"Phryne, you're shivering. We should get out of the water to warm up," he said, thankful for the opportunity to break the intensity of their gaze.

"I am a bit cold," she admitted hesitantly, not wanting to get out of the water.

"Well, let's go and rescue our lunch from the ants. There will be plenty of other opportunities to go for a swim."

They reluctantly got out of the water and walked to the picnic basket. They gathered their towels and clothes that were strewn around the basket, both of them smiling from the memory of their tussle as Jack spread out the rug. Phryne flopped down with a contented sigh, still in her swimsuit and wrapped in her towel. She couldn't remember feeling so content. Jack sat down next to her and hummed in approval when she handed him a sandwich with his favourite filling, smiling at the thought that she may have asked Mr Butler to specially pack the ingredients. They ate in silence, relishing the warmth of the dappled sun on their bodies after the icy water.

Phryne was keen to know about her loved ones so she ate quickly and started to gather her clothes. Jack raised his eyebrows at her. "Yes, I know I am rushing, Jack. As much as I love it here, I really do, I am very keen to know how everyone is. Can we come back tomorrow?"

He nodded, happy to oblige. He was also keen to see if any progress had been made on hunting down the rest of Roberts' gang. They dressed and packed up and walked quickly back to the homestead. Phryne changed as Jack retrieved what looked like a much-loved bicycle from under the house, which he tinkered with in preparation for his ride. When he was ready, he went to the verandah, where Phryne was reclining on the lounge with a drink.

"I'm off, Phryne," he said, sounding a little concerned. "I am sure you will be safe here but listen out for anything suspicious. I won't be long, I should be back in an hour or so."

Phryne smiled at him gratefully and reached out to touch his arm to show her gratitude. He was moved by her gesture and was tempted to lean down to kiss her goodbye, as lovers would do. He took her hand instead and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"See you soon," he said quietly.

Their eyes locked in a gaze. He gently lowered her hand but neither of them moved to let go. They stayed like that for a few seconds, looking longingly at each other, both aware of the quickening of their breaths. Jack slowly withdrew his hand and nodded, turning to walk out the door.

Phryne heard the click of the door and the soft crunch of tyres on the gravel as he cycled away. She sighed heavily and stared at the hill opposite. Something had to give between them. Neither of them could go on this way, she was certain of that, especially not here, alone under the same roof. She knew she was starting to feel deeply for Jack and as much as she had enjoyed their flirtations, she was starting to feel anxious about it. She had tried not to give their changing relationship much thought over the last few months, not even allowing herself to name her deep feelings for him as to do so would mean acknowledging their existence, making them real. Feeling deeply about anything made her uncomfortable. It made her feel like she was losing the control she had worked so hard to develop as protection from the heartache of loss and the suffocation she felt from being controlled.

She huffed out a breath. She could not avoid it any longer; just what was the nature of her feelings for him? Over the last few months, she had convinced herself that her deep feelings for him were the result of what felt like an aeon of mutual attraction. This had resulted in a physical longing that was so strong she felt it had started to warp her judgement, thus allowing her to entertain the idea of having a relationship with Jack and Jack only. But Phryne Fisher had promised herself that she would not give herself to one man, and there was no way in hell she would marry. So why was she feeling so conflicted?

Phryne put her head in her hands and ran her fingers through her still damp hair. He had been gone two minutes and she was already deeply uncomfortable alone with her thoughts. Was it any wonder she always favoured a dalliance? A pleasurable distraction, that's what they were and that's what she needed now.

Phryne stood upright and huffed out a breath. Despite her need to think of something besides Jack to distract her from her emotional torment, she found herself drawn to the photographs of him that were scattered throughout the house. She looked longingly at him as a younger man. There was one of him in uniform before he left for the war, looking particularly handsome; one of him holding an infant, presumably his niece or nephew and many of him in large family gatherings. She was particularly moved by the photograph where he had his arms wrapped around his mother from behind, his cheek pressed against hers. He seemed carefree and happy and she found herself wishing she had known him then. She was surprised at how pleased she was that there were no photographs of Rosie and she wondered if they had been removed. She thought of how sad he must have been to see his marriage dissolve, and how happy and relaxed he seemed here with her. He had revealed a playful and affectionate side of himself here that she had hoped existed, and one that she was struggling to resist.

Feeling raw and emotional and moved by the images of Jack before her, she cracked. She couldn't pretend any longer; he was in love with her and despite the turmoil it caused her, she finally acknowledged that she loved him too. She smiled to herself. That wasn't so hard, was it? She sighed. He was due home soon, hopefully with good news so she moved back to the verandah to await his return.

* * *

Phryne was enjoying listening to the birds when she heard what she thought was Jack returning. She jumped up and rushed to the entrance hall to greet him at the door. She had a moment of trepidation when she realised it might not be him but let out her breath when she heard a key in the lock. Jack opened the door to find Phryne looking expectantly at him.

He smiled at her, "Everyone's safe, Phryne, and there have been some interesting developments in the Roberts' case."

Phryne let out the breath she was holding and lurched towards him. She pressed herself against his body and wrapped her arms around him. "Oh Jack, thank you," she whispered.

Jack was momentarily shocked but he recovered quickly and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly. They rocked together gently for a few moments with Phryne's head nuzzling his chest and his face in her hair, until Jack withdrew from their embrace slowly, holding Phryne's upper arms and stepping back a little to create some distance between them. He smiled at her lovingly. "I think a celebration is in order. Let's have a drink on the verandah and I will tell you what I have learnt, but first I must have a quick wash. I am dripping with sweat."

Phryne reluctantly nodded, she had not planned on flinging herself at him, despite the emotional frenzy that she worked herself into in his absence, but once in his arms she had found herself very aroused by the warmth and the scent of his body and was incapable of pulling away. She tried to regain some composure and gave him a small smile. "I'll pour us a drink," she finally managed.

Jack watched her walk away. He slowly shook his head; he had really pushed himself on his bicycle on the way back in an attempt to subdue some of his sexual urges. He had dismounted feeling more in control and was looking forward to giving Phryne the good news. His feeling of calm was undone immediately by the feel of her in his arms for the first time and his body was quick to respond to her closeness. As much as he wanted her, it was not an ideal time for seduction so he gathered what little resolve he had left and reluctantly broke contact.

* * *

Jack emerged from his room feeling good. He had washed, changed into clean clothes and was feeling relaxed from his hard and fast ride back to the homestead. His heart rate was still faster than normal, but it wasn't the ride that caused that. He walked onto the verandah and sat next to Phryne. She was sitting on the lounge close to the door, her feet tucked under her with her knees angled towards him.

"Well, Jack, what have you learnt?" she asked, looking composed and trying not to think about the thrill of their embrace.

"Collins took Miss Williams and Mr Butler to the train station this morning and he assured me they weren't followed. He also rang your aunt. Jane is at school and is being discretely chaperoned at all times, so she is safe."

Phryne let out a breath and smiled at him. He looked at her and smiled back, reaching for her hand to give her a reassuring squeeze.

"The other thing that I learnt is that since Roberts' arrest, the remaining gang members have been killing each other in an attempt to gain control of the operation and many of them have been fished out of the Yarra. It makes our job easier but I still worry that you will be the ultimate prize. I don't think we are out of danger yet."

His use of 'we' did not escape Phryne's notice and she reached for Jack's whiskey to pass it to him so they could clink glasses and toast the safety of her loved ones. They took a sip, eyeing each other. Phryne was the first to talk.

"Well, I can't say I am sorry they are bumping each other off. They are a particularly nasty lot."

Jack looked at her. They still hadn't spoken about her hare-brained idea of going undercover with these thugs, but he was reluctant to bring it up and cause friction. "Yes, I am not sorry either. Let's toast the safety of Jane and your staff," he said smiling, raising his glass. "And to properly relaxing."

They both took a sip as they gazed at each other. Phryne smiled. "I am already feeling remarkably relaxed here, despite the inconvenience of having a price on my head. You seem relaxed too, Jack. In fact, I don't think I have seen you this relaxed before, you seem ...," she paused, trying to find the right word, worried that she would offend him by insinuating that he was usually, as Aunt P had put it, more dour, "... content," she finally settled on.

Jack puckered his lips as he contemplated her words. "I do believe I agree with you," he said, his demeanour becoming more serious. "I have found today to be most enjoyable." He smiled at her, that gentle smile of his that she loved so much. "Also, I was rather pleased and relieved you didn't hate it here given that you were brought here under duress. This place means a great deal to me and I was worried you would resent me for bringing you to a place that is so unlike the world that you know and are comfortable in."

"Jack," Phryne said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "It pleases me no end that you care enough about me to invite me to your family home, just the two of us. I know that would have been hard for you. It's not exactly the right thing to do."

"Keeping you safe is the right thing to do." Jack replied placing his hand on top of hers and caressing her knuckles with his thumb. "That matters more to me than all else, and besides, who is here to judge?"

"Nobody is here except us, Jack." Phryne said softly, looking into his eyes. "And I like it that way."

Jack gazed back at Phryne and wondered what she meant by this. Was this her way of her saying that she wanted him and him only?

Phryne saw a hint of confusion in his expression and reached up to touch him reassuringly on his cheek. Jack slowly blinked and turned his face towards her hand and kissed her palm, raising his hand to press her hand to his lips.

Phryne's eyes widened and she skipped a breath as Jack continued to kiss her hand slowly with opened-mouthed kisses. He kissed slowly up to her fingers, closing his eyes for each kiss then gazing at Phryne with darkened eyes in between. Was this really happening? Surely he wouldn't ...

"Oh!" she gasped, as he gently pushed her forefinger inside his mouth so his tongue could softly caress the pad of her finger. She no longer bothered to hide that she was deeply aroused. As far as she was concerned they had reached a point of no return. Jack's gentle kissing of her finger was incredibly erotic, her heart was racing and she was breathing heavily. She moved slowly towards him, worried he might come to his senses and reject her advances.

When Jack saw Phryne lean in for a kiss he stopped kissing her fingers and threaded his hands through her hair to pull her closer until the tips of their noses were touching. Phryne waited, wanting Jack to initiate the kiss as he had done earlier with her hand. She didn't have to wait long, he softly pressed his lips to hers.

They were so completely absorbed in their first real kiss that it seemed that the world stopped around them. How could so much feeling, love even, be conveyed by such a gentle press of the lips? They stayed like that for a few heartbeats, savouring the moment.

Jack pulled away slightly and then kissed her again, this time with more pressure and with slightly parted lips. This kiss spoke of unexpressed feelings; they had so much to say to each other from years of longing and pent up emotions. They came apart slowly, only to join again in a kiss that was longer, more intense, until they locked in a kiss that spoke of nothing but lust. Their tongues, lovingly caressing and gentle at first, became more forceful as their arousal grew, thrusting deep into each other's mouths. Their gentle breaths turned to pants, fuelled by their racing heartbeats.

Phryne hitched up her dress to straddle Jack's lap, their lips still joined. She exhaled sharply when she felt his erection and pressed against him, her hips moving gently. Jack grunted and pulled her closer, their desire for each other now becoming urgent and they rocked against each other on the lounge.

Jack suddenly broke the kiss. His hands were either side of her head and he gently pushed her away to look at her. She was opened mouthed and panting, her eyes barely open. Her lips were swollen from kissing and her hair was in disarray and she was just how she looked all those times he had ravished her, alone in his bed or at his desk late at night. He pushed them forward to the edge of the lounge, lifting them both upright with Phryne still wrapped around him. He relaxed his grip on her and she slowly slid down his body, lowering her legs to stand. He looked into her eyes. "Phryne," he breathed. His voice, shaky and husky, was full of emotion.

Phryne gazed back at this beautiful man. She wasn't worried, she knew he wasn't going to reject her; no-one kisses you like that and then walks away. She smiled at him lovingly as he gathered her into his arms and hugged her tightly, one arm around her neck and the other on her lower back, pulling her closer. He buried his face in her neck, kissing her again when his lips touched her skin. Phryne sighed as he worked his way up, with slow, wet kisses, back to her mouth, both of them returning to the passion of their kiss before standing.

Jack again broke the kiss and stepped backwards, trailing his hand down her arm and entwining his fingers in hers. They gazed at each other for a few moments until Jack took a few steps backwards and gently pulled her towards the house. When he came to the doorway, he turned, his fingers twisting in hers, and he slowly led her to the bedroom.


	7. Chapter 7

Jack led Phryne into her room, turning to face her and reaching for her other hand. They stayed like this for a short while, gazing lovingly into each other's eyes, voicelessly acknowledging the significance of the moment until Phryne could take it no longer.

"Jack," she breathed, and pulled him closer, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck. "I have wanted this, you, for so long."

Jack closed his eyes and nodded and let out a sigh. He gently ran his fingers down her cheek and along her jaw. He lifted her chin and leant forward to kiss her, pulling her to him so he was pressed against her.

Both of them were reluctant to loosen their hold on each other after wanting this for so long so they continued to kiss by the bed. Jack ran his hands down Phryne's back to cup her backside and hold her tightly against him. He felt her hum in pleasure. He inched up her dress with his fingers so he could run his hands over her thighs, their mouths never breaking contact. His mouth stilled as he let out a breath and savoured the silkiness of her skin. His hands moved up to her knickers and he slid his fingers under the hems to caress her backside, gently trailing his fingers down the divide of her buttocks, just stopping frustratingly short of curving his fingers under.

Phryne's breaths grew more ragged. She desperately wanted to feel his naked body against hers but for once couldn't bring herself to dictate the order and nature of the seduction so she surrendered her body to him. His hands and his kisses were slow, agonisingly slow, but it felt right for them, given how long it took them to get to this moment. No, this was not something she was willing to rush.

Jack tugged at her dress and Phryne responded immediately by reaching down and helping him gather it, lifting her arms so he could pull it off. They worked quickly on getting her knickers down and she stepped out of them, flinging them aside with her foot. She stood naked before him. He took a step back so he could look at her.

Phryne was unprepared for how hungrily he gazed at her body. He stared at her with an intensity she had not seen in him before as his eyes drifted slowly over every part of her. His breathing was rapid now and he tilted his head back with a grunt and closed his eyes, as if the vision of her naked before him was too much to bear. He brought his head forward to look at her again, stepping closer and pulling her to him so he could kiss her again and feel every part of her. He ran his hands all over her body. He was so aroused he felt dizzy, intoxicated: drunk on the feel of her.

Phryne broke the kiss to reach up and unbutton his shirt, desperate for her turn to look at him and feel his body. Jack slowly came to his senses and took over, quickly undoing the buttons while Phryne worked on his trousers. They worked together to swiftly remove most of his clothes, still gazing at each other. She slowly moved forward and dipped her hand inside the band of his underwear to brush the back of her fingers just above where he wanted to be touched; two could play that game. Jack closed his eyes and blew out a breath but did not move to take them off. He reached for her to pull her into a kiss and exhaled sharply as she caressed him through the cloth of the undergarment. He slowly shook his head at the intensity of her strokes and reached for her hand to gently pull it away.

"I don't have protection," he whispered.

"Don't worry, Jack, I do. I'll explain later."

Jack looked at her briefly in confusion and then smiled. "Well, in that case, come here," he whispered.

He took both her hands in his and gently pulled her to the bed, positioning himself in the middle and pulling Phryne down with him. She knelt beside him and was moved by the expression of love, lust and disbelief on Jack's face. She removed his underwear and Jack watched her eyes widen as she looked at him naked and ran her hands down his body. He was desperate to feel her, all of her, pressed up against him. He reached out and pulled her on top of him. They both sighed with pleasure at the feeling of their naked bodies, finally, finally together.

They kissed again, this time with a hunger neither was expecting. Their tongues thrust deeply into each other's mouths, their bodies moving against each other. Jack rolled them both over so he lay atop her. She drew up her knees and pulled at him as a prompt for him to position himself, but he wasn't quite ready for that. He wanted to explore her body further, with his hands and his mouth, but he couldn't drag himself away from their kiss.

Their kisses slowed and Jack moved to lie beside her and propped himself up on his left elbow so he could run his hand over her body. He gently caressed her breasts, startling a gasp from her with a firm squeeze of her nipple. She responded by turning her body towards him to press her hips against his. Their frenetic breathing forced them to stop kissing but their lips were still touching, both of them feeling the need to maintain intimacy.

Jack gently pushed her body away so he could continue to caress her. He ran his hand down her abdomen to her knee in one sensuous stroke and back again, his fingers moving slowly up the inside of her thigh to tease her. He wanted to increase her arousal but he was in danger of losing himself in her softness.

Phryne arched against his touch and sighed in frustration. Her hands were in his hair and on his neck, keeping him as close to her as possible. He caressed her just below her bellybutton, wanting to bury his head in her feminine belly but he was unable to take his mouth from hers. He continued his stroke down the other leg, caressing her knee and then moving his hand slowly up her thigh.

Phryne was incredibly aroused. She panted against his mouth and squirmed against him in the hope that his hand would move higher. He slowly continued until his hand came to the top of her thighs, his fingers gently brushing against where she most wanted to be touched.

"Jack ...," she breathed.

She positioned herself to make it easier for him to caress her.

"Christ Phryne, you feel … you feel ..."

He was so lost in the feel of her that all he could manage was a slow shake of the head. He continued to stroke and explore her, his own arousal increasing as she reacted to his voice and touch and when he could bear it no more he shifted again and gently pushed into her.

Phryne was unprepared for the pace of Jack's movements and they moved together as one, their bodies tightly entwined. They kissed in between pants, their faces still pressed closely together. She was starting to feel overwhelmed by their closeness: it was almost too much. She had taken many lovers and considered herself an expert on achieving sexual gratification but she was unprepared for the intimacy of their lovemaking. Sex to her was a game, a fun diversion, a bolstering of her self-esteem and affirmation of her sexual prowess and power over men but here she was reminded that sex could be more than all that: it was also an expression of love and never had she felt this more deeply than now.

Jack breathed her name. Their pace was quickening and she could feel the beginning of her orgasm build and then flood through her. She cried out softly then stilled, pulling his hips to hers, twitching and panting against his mouth. She opened her eyes and held his face away from her so she could watch him. She was mesmerised as a small frown appeared on his face quickly followed by a look of surprise. He stiffened and grunted quietly, exhaling sharply as he slowly relaxed to gently lie on top of her, his forearms taking most of his weight. He dropped his head onto Phryne's shoulder and she listened to his ragged breathing and felt his heart beating strongly. She wrapped her arms around him tightly and gently ran her hands up and down his back with long, sensuous strokes. Overcome with emotion, she felt the first tingle of tears and shut her eyes tightly, thankful that he could not see her face.

Jack shifted against her, turning onto his side and bringing her with him, still joined, so they lay in each other's arms, noses almost touching. Phryne kissed him gently on the lips and gazed at him lovingly. They lay like this for a short while catching their breath until Jack raised his hand and gently stroked her cheek, bringing her closer to kiss her. He too had the shimmer of tears in his eyes. He began to speak. A slow and soft _Phryne_ was all he could manage.

They stayed tightly embraced, relishing this intimate moment together. Jack rolled onto his back so Phryne's head was on his shoulder, her forehead pressed up against his cheek. He twirled his fingers in her hair as the other hand stroked her body. She listened to his heartbeat gradually slow. After a while, Phryne pulled back slightly to look up at him and they smiled at each other.

"I think we have both wanted this for some time, Jack, but why now?"

Jack pondered the question for a while, looking into her eyes before answering.

"Because it felt right, Phryne," he said, smiling lovingly at her. "Everything has felt right today." He drew her towards him and kissed her tenderly on the lips, "And it still does," he whispered, rolling onto his side again and gently inserting his thigh between her legs.

Phryne nodded in agreement and closed her eyes, sighing contentedly and allowing her body to relax and lean against him. She was incredibly moved by their lovemaking and was still coming to terms with the depth of her feelings. She had expected him to be hesitant and self-conscious and she thought he would have to be cajoled into bed so was surprised by how confident a lover he was. Normally the instigator in these matters, she couldn't remember the last time she had felt so thoroughly and deliciously seduced.

Jack was sliding his hand over her with firm, sensuous stokes. He sure did know how to touch, she thought. And unsurprisingly, he was a great kisser. She raised her face to him as a prompt. He didn't disappoint, his tongue seeking hers immediately.

He pulled away suddenly and drew back to look at her. "So, tell me about your protection," he said with raised eyebrows.

Phryne smiled up at him. "I have a spare diaphragm that I keep in my toiletries bag. After our embrace by the door I decided that I couldn't wait for you to make a move and I was going to seduce you, no matter what, so I prepared myself while you were having a wash."

Jack smiled, choosing to ignore the illegality of what they had just done. He kissed her again, his hand cupping her backside and pulling her closer.

They stayed in bed for hours, exploring each other's bodies, feeling more comfortable with each other in this new arrangement. They snoozed in each other's arms and talked about all manner of things, expertly avoiding a discussion of this sudden change in their relationship, distracting each other with kisses and caresses. Both knew that discussion would come, it was inevitable but neither wanted to ruin this delicious moment that they had both wanted for so long.

Eventually hunger drove them out of bed and once sated and prepared for bed again, they cuddled on the lounge, toasting their new-found closeness with whiskey and kisses until they felt the pull of the bedroom. Desperate to feel each other's naked body pressed up against theirs, they returned to bed.

* * *

Jack woke early the next morning, as was his custom. Light was peeking in from behind the curtains and the birds were quiet so he surmised it was well past dawn but still early. He was on his back with Phryne, still sleeping, curled up facing away from him, her backside pressed up against his hip. He rubbed his face with his hands. Her scent on his fingers caused memories of their night to flood back to him and his body responded immediately.

He had never experienced anything like it. They had made love several times, all gloriously different in pace and position and he had learnt more about female anatomy and sexuality in the few hours with Phryne than he had in the last twenty odd years. They had fought sleep, not wanting to stop caressing and talking but had finally succumbed to exhaustion, wrapped in each other's arms.

Jack laced his fingers behind his head and stared at the ceiling. He reflected on how he had changed in the time he had known her. After the war, feeling utterly alone, he slid into deep introspection and withdrew from the world. Despair and anger were the only emotions he seemed to be capable of and he clung onto them as all other feelings began to wither, including his sexual urges. This only added to the problems of his dying marriage so he relinquished them altogether, opting instead for asexuality.

When he first met Phryne he found her meddlesome and was irked by her confidence but she stirred something in him: a long-forgotten feeling that he grappled to name. He eventually conceded that he found her attractive and he realised she was the first person he had been drawn to after the break-up with Rosie.

As they got to know each other better, his feelings towards her grew but he ignored them as best as he could; he was still married and she was way out of his league. His renewed sexual urges and the stabs of jealousy he felt when he learnt of her trysts were painful reminders that he was starting to feel again and despite his reluctance, he realised he was falling for her. It was not until he stood pale and trembling before the sports car, fighting panic and nausea as he expected to find her dead at the wheel that he realised he was in love with her.

He blinked slowly, not wanting to relive the time he walked out on her. He forced himself out of his painful reflection to return to the present and turned to her, wrapping his arm around her and snuggling in gently, careful not to wake her. As he lay there, his face buried in her hair and his body pressed lovingly into hers, he allowed himself to briefly feel joyous until doubt and insecurity worked their way in and his happiness drained away slowly. Their lives had irrevocably changed in less than a day and the reality of the consequences of their coupling sunk in: this was either the start of something serious between them or the end of their relationship as they had known it.

He gently kissed her neck and realised this was the first time since he had been here with her that he felt insecure and he chided himself for feeling that way when he was pressed up against the woman he loved, the woman who had made love to him last night in a way that made him think that she loved him too. Damn it, he thought, he didn't care if he woke her, he needed to kiss her and feel her pressed tightly against him. He pulled her gently onto her back and she took a deep breath and stretched, opening her eyes to look at him. She smiled and his heart skipped a beat.

"Morning, gorgeous," she said, her voice scratchy with sleep.

Jack smiled at her and leant in to press a gentle kiss to her mouth. "Good morning, beautiful. Sleep well?"

Still smiling she turned to him, inserting her arm under his and pulling him closer, her leg sliding between his thighs. "Mmm, no, thankfully."

Feeling more buoyant, he buried his face in her hair again and breathed in her scent. She wasn't properly awake and he felt her body twitch as sleep reclaimed her. He thought about getting up and making breakfast but was reluctant to part with her so he stayed there, his arms wrapped around her, listening to her breathe. He was unsure what lay ahead for the two of them but he was lying naked, wrapped around the woman he loved most in the world after a night of incredible intimacy. He sighed, moments like this were to be cherished and everything else could wait. Feeling more relaxed, he slowly drifted back into sleep.

* * *

It was mid-morning as they sat on the lounge on the verandah with empty breakfast plates piled on the low table. Phryne sipped her tea and looked wistfully at the hill opposite. She was nestled into the corner of the lounge with her bare legs and feet in Jack's lap. His hands were gently caressing her toes, which she wiggled appreciatively.

"I assume you have climbed that hill," she said to him, gesturing with her cup. "I imagine you were a _Boy's Own Adventure_ fan."

"I think you will find it's a _mountain_, Phryne," Jack scoffed, feigning indignation, "and yes, I have climbed it many times. The first time I did it on my own I was eight."

"Eight?" Phryne asked incredulously. "That would have been quite an adventure. Were you allowed to do this or did you sneak off against your parents' wishes?"

"I think you know the answer to that, Phryne," he said, giving her a smile.

"Well, as far as I know, you could have been a wayward and naughty child. You did mention that this place was your refuge from your troubled youth."

Jack smiled. Yes he did tell her that. He decided to distract her by sliding his hand up her dress to the top of her thighs. "Not as a child," he said softly, flicking his eyebrows up at her, "but I am feeling rather naughty and wayward now."

Phryne chuckled, closing her eyes at the touch of his hand. "I want to climb your mountain," she murmured.

Jack stopped caressing her and raised his eyebrows. "What?"

Phryne opened her eyes and sat up in earnest. "I need an adventure, Jack."

Of course she did; it was only a matter of time before she got fidgety and bored here. It was like she had a physical urge to do something daring, to feed her addiction. "It's a steep climb," he teased. "Are you sure you are up to it?"

Phryne scoffed. "Jack, you know I can climb. This would be a piece of cake compared with a rusty and loose drainpipe. And besides," she said, flashing him a grin, "I'll have an expert mountaineer as my guide."

Phryne didn't wait for Jack's response as she jumped up and declared that she was going to get ready and would pack some water and snacks, denying him a quip about waving to her at the top from the comfort of the verandah. Jack smiled, in truth he was delighted that she wanted to do this with him. It was a tough climb but the view from the top was well worth it. He finished his tea and got up to change.

They walked hand-in-hand as Jack led the way down a different path to the creek so that they could cross it without getting too wet. They stood on the bank at the other side and looked up. It was steeper than Phryne had thought but that did not deter her. They worked their way up slowly, stopping every now and then to look at the view and have a drink. It was hard going but Phryne found it exhilarating. They scrambled and slid and there were times when Jack climbed ahead and pulled her up vertical rocks, both trusting each other implicitly. After just over an hour they arrived at the top, dirty and sweaty and hot. Jack walked along the ridge to a large rocky outcrop and beckoned for Phryne to join him. "The view is best from here," he called, "you can see the homestead."

Phryne went to him and sat down, taking her shoes and socks off to cool her hot feet. She looked lovely: her trousers were rolled up, her ruined blouse clung to her sweaty body and she was flushed from the climb. She turned to him with a broad smile and then took in the view.

"Just beautiful. It was worth it just to see this!"

Jack smiled at her and leant over to pull her into a kiss. Her lips were salty from the sweat that had trickled down from her brow. They stayed kissing for a while, both feeling good after exerting themselves. Jack slowly withdrew and looked lovingly at her, his hand still in her hair.

"You look beautiful, Phryne. Don't move." He dug in the bag for the camera, which Phryne had insisted on bringing, to capture this special moment together. He walked behind her and found a position that framed her at an angle looking out across the valley to the homestead and hills in the background. She had her feet stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankles and she leant to the left, supporting herself with her outstretched arm, her right hand was relaxed in her lap. He focused the image and called out to her. She twisted her body slightly to look around at him. Her expression was soft and open and the breeze had just caught her hair, lifting it slightly and blowing some strands across her smile.

As Jack heard the click of the shutter, he knew he would forever cherish this photograph: two of his greatest loves in the one frame. What he didn't know was how much he would come to rely on that image over the next few months to get him through what were to become his darkest days since just after the war.

In the weeks to come, he would feel his life spiral out of control. As a broken man, he would return to deep contemplation in the dead of the night to relive his time here with Phryne, in the hope that his memories and that photograph would remind him of a time when he felt whole and that love and happiness were possible again. Only then would he be able to heal and move on from the horrors that awaited them both.


	8. Chapter 8

_Some relative calm before the storm ..._

* * *

Back at the homestead they lay on the lounge together. Phryne was lying with her head in Jack's lap and her feet over the arm of the lounge. She was relaxed from their climb and their 'swim' to cool off afterwards. She smiled as she thought of their time in the creek, naked and tightly entwined around each other as they succumbed yet again to their attraction. She was enjoying the feeling of Jack's fingers in her hair when she heard his stomach rumble.

"Hungry?" she asked, opening her eyes to look up at him.

"Very."

"What do we have left? We are running out of Mr Butler's food."

"Not a lot, only some eggs and potatoes and some bread and cheese. We can have sandwiches now but I was thinking I might shoot some rabbits this evening and we can make a stew."

Phryne's eyes widened in surprise. "You hunt, Jack?" she asked.

"I wouldn't say I hunted Phryne, I don't enjoy shooting but I have shot rabbits and the odd wallaby for food. We have been in the midst of a rabbit plague here for a while now. My family has shot rabbits here for as long as I can remember."

"Well, I hope your skills extend to skinning and gutting too, Jack. I'll chop the vegetables."

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time Jack returned from another ride into town with good news of her loved ones and some supplies for their dinner and the next couple of days. Phryne was sitting out on the verandah with a whiskey and a copy of _Main Street_ that she had found in the bookcase. She found herself at the bottom of the page with no idea of what she had just read. She was distracted: Jack was bustling around inside, walking briskly from room to room. She looked through the doors and spied him with a cushion tucked under each arm. What on earth was he up to? She put down the book. It was no use: as good as it was, the light was too dim and she couldn't concentrate so she spent the time gazing at the scenery and listening to the incredible birdsong that she missed out on in the morning.

Jack appeared at the door, startling her out of her reverie. "Jack! What are you doing in there?"

Jack smiled and raised his eyebrows at her. "You'll have to wait and see, Phryne. I've organised some evening entertainment for us."

Phryne beamed at him. He could do no wrong at the moment. "Really? Evening entertainment that involves cushions? How intriguing! What exactly are you planning on doing to entertain me tonight?" she asked reaching up to pull him down for a kiss. "Tell me Jack, you know I don't like surprises."

"I don't plan on doing anything to entertain you," he said in between kisses. "And no, I'm not going to tell you. You'll have to be patient."

Phryne huffed in frustration as Jack pulled away from her. "It's getting on, Phryne, I best be going if I am to shoot our dinner." He turned to walk away but stopped and turned to her. With mock seriousness and a stern voice he raised his finger at her. "And try to resist the urge to detect, Miss Fisher. Don't spoil my surprise."

He walked to the edge of the verandah and bent under the railing, jumping athletically to the ground. "Where are you going?" she asked, confused.

"To get the shotgun," he answered, disappearing under the verandah to the space under the house.

As Jack emerged from under the verandah with the gun over his shoulder, Phryne got up and walked to the kitchen to prepare the vegetables. She was peeling potatoes when she heard the unmistakable sound of gunshot in the distance. Two quick shots reverberated around the valley.

After a short while, she looked out the kitchen window to see Jack returning with the gun in one hand, two rabbits in the other. She looked at his body: the top buttons of his shirt were undone and his sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms; his broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist and his trousers strained against his well-muscled thighs. She watched him walk towards her, aware of how readily her body had responded to the sight of him. Not even the dead rabbits, which he held by their feet, their limp bodies moving to and fro with the movement of his walk, could dampen the desire that she felt as she watched him.

She gave herself a mental shake and focused on peeling the potatoes. Jack walked in the door and she turned to him with a smile. "Successful hunt, I see. I'll get the potatoes finished and the carrots and onions chopped and get out of your way." Jack put the gun and the rabbits on some newspaper that was spread out on the table and walked up behind her, lightly gripping her arms and briefly pressing himself up against her as he kissed the back of her neck, causing her to shiver at his touch. He moved away to check on the wood stove that he had lit earlier and when Phryne was finished he shooed her out of the kitchen with instructions to pour him a whiskey while he prepared dinner.

* * *

Phryne swallowed her last mouthful of rabbit and laid her knife and fork on her plate. "Well Jack, I must say, that was superb. I'm not normally a fan of leftovers but I will happily eat that again."

Jack smiled. "Glad to hear it, Phryne, since we have enough left for several meals." He was clearly chuffed that he had cooked such a delicious meal and he wordlessly gave thanks to Nikos, the greengrocer in town, for providing ingredients and a quick lesson on how best to cook rabbit.

They both cleared the table and Phryne was preparing to wash up when Jack grabbed her hand. "The wash-up will have to wait, Phryne, we have a short window to properly enjoy the surprise."

Phryne grinned. She was feeling a little light-headed from the few whiskeys she had already drunk and willingly obeyed when he told her to close her eyes and not open them until he told her to. She heard him switch off the lights in the house and then gasped as she felt Jack pick her up and carry her out the front door.

"No peeking!" he reminded her.

He crunched over the gravel and walked a short way and then she felt him drop to his knees and he gently laid her on a blanket. She slowly put her head back onto the cushion and felt him lie down beside her.

"You can open your eyes now," he said quietly.

Phryne opened her eyes and drew in a breath at the night sky. There was no moon yet and no light from the house to drown out the display. The sky seemed so heavy with stars that she felt she would be able to reach out and touch it; there were clouds of them with little space in between.

"Oh Jack! It is beautiful!" she said softly. "What a romantic thing to do! I must say, I didn't think you would be the romantic type."

"Neither did I, Phryne, until I found someone I wanted to be romantic with," he said smiling and turning to look at her. "You can't come up here without seeing the night sky. It really is a spectacle and this is the best way to do it."

Phryne smiled back at him and reached out to thread her fingers through his. They looked back to the stars, holding hands. Jack named the major constellations as they looked for shooting stars and he told her a bit about how other cultures interpreted the night sky.

"Where did you learn all this?" Phryne asked him.

"My father used to bring us out here when we were young to lie on a blanket so we could comfortably look up. He would name all the constellations for us. I realised much later that he made some of them up." Jack let out a small laugh at the memory of this, his demeanour growing more serious. "I was fascinated and have stared at the heavens at night ever since. When I was young, I used to stare at the stars for hours, wondering what was up there, whether it went on forever, whether there were other inhabited worlds. The universe is so vast and so full of stars that it made me feel insignificant, which helped me cope after the war."

Phryne turned to look at him. "I don't understand. Surely feeling insignificant is not a good thing when you are suffering."

"As strange as it sounds, Phryne, it helped me deal with what was happening in my life at the time. I was a mess after the war and was under a lot of pressure to buck up and be a man again. I was told to stop the self-indulgent suffering and reflection and move on." Jack paused, it was hard to go back to that time but it felt good to talk to Phryne about something that had such an impact on his life.

Phryne sensed his discomfort and squeezed his hand reassuringly, prompting him to continue. "The war changed me and it seemed like I was the only one who recognised this so I was unable to do that, but this …" he said, stretching his arm out and sweeping it in an arc in front of him, indicating the vast universe before him, "… this allowed me to put things into perspective and I felt I had nothing to prove. It helped me realise that it didn't really matter in the scheme of things if I failed to become the man that others wanted me to be; the world would not stop revolving and life would go on."

Phryne managed to drag her eyes away from the incredible night sky to look over at Jack. She turned to him and shifted his arm so she could lie with her head on his shoulder, her hand resting on his chest where she could feel the beat of his heart. Jack ran his fingers through Phryne's hair. She sighed softly and closed her eyes, loving the feel of him touching her.

"What made you better?" she asked, not wanting him to stop talking.

"I was sick to death of people telling me what I needed to do, who I needed to become to get over the trauma of the war. I shut everyone out and became a recluse for a while. This allowed _me_ to really think about who I wanted to be and I gradually decided that I didn't want to be angry and sad. I also didn't want to be married. Not to Rosie, anyway; I knew that was over. As I felt stronger, I started working again and threw myself into my job. I felt useful again." Jack huffed out a small laugh, "I thought it was ironic that dealing with murder and death helped me deal with the horrors that I experienced at war."

Phryne put her arm around him and held him tightly.

"Oh Jack …"

She had wanted him to talk so she could get to know him better but was pained at the thought of him suffering and feeling utterly alone. He had revealed his innermost thoughts to her and she wondered if it was their new-found closeness or the many whiskies they'd shared that had loosened his tongue and allowed him to talk about those terrible times. She suspected it was both. She felt so close to him at the moment and wanted to tell him she loved him but felt it was too soon. She couldn't bring herself to do it.

Jack turned to kiss the top of Phryne's head, not wanting to dwell on the past when he was the happiest he had been for years. "Let's go inside, the moon's coming up and I could do with a more comfortable setting."

They both stood and gathered the cushions and blanket and walked back to the house, plonking themselves down on the couches in the lounge room.

"How about another whiskey and some music?" Phryne asked, rising to pour him another drink. She was feeling quite tipsy, but the night was still young and she was eager to explore the extensive record collection.

They sat in the lounge room drinking whiskey and talking, mostly about their childhood. They laughed at each other's stories, becoming louder and more affectionate with each other as they consumed more alcohol. After a while, Phryne decided she wanted to dance. She was sitting on Jack's lap and he tightened his grip as she moved to get off him.

"Mmmm, don't go," he said, kissing her neck. Phryne playfully pried his hands away giving him a wet kiss before walking unsteadily to the gramophone, realising she was drunker than she thought. She looked through the record collection. There were so many she had never heard of and was having trouble choosing one.

"This is an extensive collection. Who's the music fan?"

"My brother in-law is a music promoter. He brings bands to Australia and imports the latest records from around the world."

"How exciting!" Phryne exclaimed. "He sounds like a good person to know. Do you get to see these bands when they come out?" She turned to rifle through the records.

"They're not really my thing. Try the one on the end."

She pulled out the record on the end of the pile. "Love Me or Leave Me?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Sounds ominous."

Jack chuckled. "My sister likes it."

She put it on, expertly putting the needle in place at the start of the song, despite feeling considerably wobbly. She remained kneeling until she was sure she liked the music. Sweet violin started the song and then the pace slowed. Phryne turned up the volume and a sultry voice filled the room.

_This suspense is killin' me_

_ I can't stand uncertainty_

_ Tell me now I've got to know_

_ Whether you want me to stay or to go ..._

Oh, yes, this will do. She stood up and swayed to the music, listening to the lyrics.

_Love me or leave me or let me be lonely_

_ You won't believe me but I love you only_

_ I'd rather be lonely than happy with someone else ..._

She looked over at Jack, who was watching her with an expression that she couldn't quite read.

_You might find the night time the right time for kissin'_

_ But night time is my time for just reminiscin'_

_ Regrettin' instead of forgettin' with somebody else ..._

Jack watched Phryne smirking at him as she swayed to the rhythm of the music. He knew she suspected it was him that had played this song repeatedly as he struggled with his feelings for her.

_There'll be no one unless that someone is you_

_ I intend to be independently blue ..._

She had closed her eyes to focus on the lyrics, opening them every now and then to make sure she wasn't going to stumble drunkenly into furniture. Jack smiled as he watched her and marvelled at how completely uninhibited she was; she was like no-one he had ever known. He was drunk, more drunk than he had been for a while in the company of another person but was enjoying the feel of it. He felt lighter from having shared some of his past with Phryne and his muscles seemed more relaxed. He felt like he had melted into his favourite spot on his favourite lounge at his favourite place, watching Phryne sway and move her body in time to the music, as if she were his own private entertainment.

He continued to watch her and looked longingly at her body. Christ! He was sure that she had ruined him for all other women. He had spent the day in a state of constant arousal; their sex yesterday and throughout today was both tender and exhilarating and he felt like the luckiest man alive. He couldn't get enough of her and he wanted her now.

_I want your love but I don't want to borrow_

_ To have it today to give back tomorrow_

_ For your love is my love_

_ There's no love for nobody else ..._

"Phryne," he said thickly, trying not to sound too drunk. Phryne opened her eyes and looked at him with a smile that sent a surge of heat through his body. He extended an arm to her and beckoned with his fingers. "Come here," he whispered.

Phryne raised an eyebrow at his command but continued to smile. "No," she said softly, "you come here."

Jack chuckled. Of course she'd say that. He suspected she would try and coax him into a dance. "And why would I do that?" he asked, happily entering into their familiar battle of wits and will.

"And why would I come there?" she countered, trying to give him her most suggestive look.

"So I can hold you."

She sashayed closer, bending towards him and jutting her chin out. "Hold me? Is that all you want to do to me?"

Jack paused, "No, I want to do more to you than just hold you."

Phryne looked at him, nestled into the corner of the lounge, watching her lustfully. "If you want me to come to you then you need to tell me," she whispered slowly, moving slightly closer to him but just out of his reach, "what you plan on doing to me." She continued to move to the music, watching a smirk appear on his face.

Jack looked at her swaying seductively just in front of him. God he wanted her. He was tempted to reach out and grab her and pull her to him but doubted he could move that fast in his current state of inebriation. He debated whether or not to play her game. Why not? He always enjoyed their constant attempts to gain the upper hand. Now all he had to do was shock her into submission. Luckily the grog, his arousal and their growing familiarity with each other's bodies had loosened his prurient tongue.

Jack stared at her and spoke softly and slowly. "I want you to straddle me so I can feel you against me. I want to kiss every part of you and caress you with my fingers. Then I will lie you down and make love to you, here, on the lounge."

Phryne's eyes widened and her nostrils flared as she felt a wave of arousal. Damn, he was good; she had expected him to be flustered by her demand. She tried to look composed and held his gaze. "And what if I don't want that?"

"Oh, you'll want it," Jack said quietly, looking at her intensely. "You want it now."

Phryne stilled, her breathing had quickened and she fought the urge to go to him, to have his hands on her, to feel him in her. She looked at him sitting there, legs slightly apart, the top buttons of his shirt still undone. He had one arm on the back of the lounge, the other resting across his thigh.

She had always been attracted to him physically, even more so now: she had struggled to keep her hands off him all day, but it was so much more than that. He was clever and witty, kind and affectionate and she (mostly) loved that he was as headstrong and stubborn as she was. She had always been attracted to confident people and was drawn to him as he scowled at her in the bathroom at their first crime scene. He had emanated self-assuredness, piquing her interest immediately; there was no mistaking that he occupied a position of power. His obvious intelligence gave him an arrogant air, and that and his voice sent thrills through her body. Now, in her drunken state, she wondered if she could ever tire of this beautiful man.

She raised an eyebrow and started to sway again in time to the music. "If you want me, you will have to come to me," she said, stepping away from him, knowing this was a game she would always win.

He didn't respond to her but continued to watch this beautiful, stubborn and defiant woman with a small smile on his face. He knew he would go to her, he always would, that is what you do when you are madly and deeply in love with someone but he was going to make her wait.

She upped the sexuality, watching him with an intensity that caused him to skip a breath. She turned her back to him and slowly swayed her backside, running her hands up and down her body.

Jack grunted with desire and quietly got off the lounge. So much for making her wait, who was he kidding? She had a hold on him now and he couldn't resist her. Her tease had dissolved what little resolve he had and he slowly walked to her, putting his hands on her bare shoulders to gently pull her back so he could press up against her body. He ran his hands slowly down her arms and she leant her head back to rest on his shoulder and pushed against him, rubbing him with her backside, humming at the feel of his hands roaming all over her body. They stayed like this for a short while, breathing heavily, until she turned to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Dance with me."

Jack sighed with frustration, not because he didn't want to dance with her, he would quite happily spend eternity pressed up against her, but he was drunk and very aroused and he wanted her with an urgency he was fighting to control. He pulled her to him tightly, wrapping his arms around her possessively so she was forced to move with him at his pace; this was one dance between them that he was going to lead. His face was close to hers but he teased her by not letting her kiss him. He started to sway, moving his hips in time to the music.

Phryne's eyes widened and she gasped softly. "If I had known about your dancing prowess, Inspector," she slurred with mock formality, "I would have insisted that you dance with me earlier."

Jack huffed out a small laugh. There was that word again. "Insisted?" he said in a low voice, moving closer to brush the tip of her nose with his. "Is that what you think of me? That I will always do as you say?" Jack leant in to whisper in her ear, pulling her even closer against him. "I'm not that easy, Miss Fisher. You'll have to try harder than that." He sucked on her lobe and moved his hand from her lower back to gently stroke her backside and the top of her thighs. "What's in it for me?"

Phryne felt goose bumps spread over her body and she shivered against him.

Jack smiled. Now he had her.

"Me. All of me," she whispered, desperate for him now.

Despite the music finishing, he danced them away from the furniture and wanting to show off, he dipped her, his alcohol-fogged brain mistiming the dip and he stumbled and they fell to the wooden floor. Jack just managed to get a hand out to soften their landing before he tumbled on top of her.

They looked at each other in surprise and burst out laughing, grinning from ear-to-ear. They snorted and then giggled, their laughter eventually subsiding to a soft chuckle and they gazed at each other almost nose-to-nose, Jack lying gently on top of her. The soft _click click_ of the needle in the groove at the end of the record caused memories of their dance to come back to them.

Phryne pulled Jack to her and roughly kissed him, writhing under him. Jack responded with the same sense of urgency and they tore at each other's clothes to feel skin. They didn't bother to undress, there was no time for that, no time for caressing and no time for intimacy. It was as if all layers of decency and decorum had been stripped away and they grappled with each other, desperate to get what they wanted. Phryne's dress was pushed up, her knickers roughly removed. Jack's trousers were undone and pushed down to bunch at his ankles. He quickly entered her, causing her to cry out and push up against him. They didn't kiss, there were no loving strokes, just drunken and uncontrolled lust and they rutted like animals.

Phryne grabbed his hips. "Harder!" she breathed, pulling him so he pushed deeper inside her, inching her across the floor with every thrust. Despite the amount of alcohol they had consumed, they both orgasmed quickly, crying out loudly and then panting as they recovered from their exertion.

Jack withdrew from her and collapsed to lie down next to her, pulling her towards him. They looked at each other and snickered like naughty children. They were comfortable enough with each other that neither of them was too embarrassed about what had just happened. They kissed, slowly and lovingly, returning to the pace of their earlier lovemaking. Phryne broke the kiss and looked up at him. "Jack, how shockingly, wonderfully ungentlemanly of you!"

Jack huffed out a laugh. "The gentleman in me left about four whiskies ago, Phryne," he replied, kissing her gently on the lips. The room was starting to spin and they were feeling the hardness of the floor. They were both suddenly very tired.

"Let's go to bed," Phryne whispered, in between kisses. Jack smiled, and reached up to lovingly tuck her hair behind her ear. Despite his drunkenness, he registered the significance of those four little words: they would retreat to the room that they now shared as lovers. They were too invested in each other to consider this a holiday fling. He stood slowly, fighting the gravitational pull of the floor and pulled up his trousers.

"Yes," he said, helping her up to embrace her and nuzzle lovingly into her neck. "Let's go to bed."

* * *

_Love Me or Leave Me: music was written by Walter Donaldson and the lyrics by Gus Khan. I grew up on the Nina Simone version and always loved it. The version in this story was sung by Ruth Etting. Check it out, it is fabulous ...  
_


	9. Chapter 9

_Here we go, people ..._

* * *

Phryne was dancing again. She was pressed up close to him, his breath ruffling her hair as they danced cheek to cheek. Her body buzzed with anticipation. She felt him slowly move away from her and she lifted her face in hope of a kiss as she felt his hands move up her body. "I want you ...," he whispered, "I need you. We are so good together." Phryne looked up at him and nodded immediately. He was right: they were meant to be together. The last few weeks had been thrilling, and now she was ready to give herself, all of herself, to him. A smile spread over Roberts' face and he leant in to kiss her ...

Phryne was jolted awake by the screech of cockatoos in the tree just outside her window. She was momentarily disoriented; the pounding in her head and her dream had thrown her and she looked around dazed for a few seconds. She turned her head sharply towards the soft exhalations beside her, instantly regretting the abrupt movement of her head and resultant stab of pain.

Jack.

She huffed out a breath. She felt dreadful. Her mouth was sour and dry and she felt dizzy and nauseous. She shut her gritty eyes in the hope of returning to sleep but her mind took her back to the dream. It was so real, so dreadfully real. She snapped her eyes open again. She tried to shake off the lingering dread she was feeling: she had outsmarted dangerous men and now they were seeking revenge. She had been so distracted by her new relationship with Jack that once she knew that Jane and her staff were safe, she had put the reason they were here together conveniently out of her mind.

She kept her head still but moved her eyes to look at the glow at the edge of the curtains. It was light outside at least so it couldn't be too early. The pounding in her head subsided slightly and she heard the sound of light rain and groaned as she realised that she would have to get up and walk through it to deal with her urgent call of nature.

She turned her head, slowly this time, towards Jack. Memories of their night worked their way through the pain in her head and she managed a small smile. Yesterday was wonderful; she couldn't remember such a perfect day: climbing, a dip in the creek, Jack's excellent stew and lying wrapped in his arms under the stars. And of course there was the lovemaking throughout the day, culminating in their dance and the stumble that had toppled them onto the floor. She felt a twinge in her belly at the memory of their frenzied sex and she closed her eyes briefly to savour it. Their lovemaking had been a revelation; it was better than she could have imagined and if she wasn't feeling so fragile, she would be pressed up against him by now.

She sighed, her bladder could take it no longer and she put on her slippers and robe, gently getting out of bed so she wouldn't wake Jack. She groaned as her head thumped in pain when she stood. She gingerly moved to the dresser and rummaged in her toiletry bag for her tin of aspirin, avoiding her dishevelled reflection. She left two on the bedside table for Jack and took hers to the kitchen and downed them with a large glass of water. She opened the door and cursed as she looked at the outhouse at the end of the path. Country life had suddenly lost some appeal.

Back in their room, she placed a glass of water on the bedside table for Jack, who was curled on his side facing her. She paused to look at him and smiled. Even in slumber he looked hungover. She shivered. She was damp from the rain so she moved to her side and shed her robe and gently slipped into bed. She turned to look at him. The covers were pulled up to his waist, exposing his naked torso. She curled up close to feel his warmth but didn't touch him, knowing her cold body would jolt him awake. She looked at his back, fighting the urge to run her hand down his smooth skin. She wanted to fill her mind with his body to drive the disturbing images of Roberts out of her head. She knew it was only a dream but it and the whiskey had left a bad taste in her mouth. Her eyes followed the line of his spine to the covers and she reached out to lift them, taking a peek at his bottom before she gently brought them up over their shoulders.

The cockatoos continued their screeching, this time waking Jack, who groaned and moved onto his back. He took a moment to wait for the dizziness to subside before turning his head and opening one eye to look at her. She was lying on her side, watching him. She smiled, knowing he would be coming to terms with how terrible he felt. She reached out and ran her hand over his chest.

He managed a small smile. "Ergh."

She reached across him to pass him the water and aspirin. "Here, take these."

Jack slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position and swallowed the pills. He grimaced at their bitter taste. "Thank you, nurse." He looked over at Phryne smiling at him. "What are you smiling about?" he said playfully, his voice more gravelly than usual. "This is all your fault, plying me with whiskey so you could take advantage of me, again."

Phryne huffed out a laugh and again regretted it, her head pounding with the exertion. "I think you'll find it was you who took advantage of me last night, Jack, throwing me to the floor and pinning me down so you could have your way with me."

Jack managed a smile. "You loved every minute of it," he said, reaching down to stroke the top of her nose.

Phryne managed a grin. "I don't think it even lasted a minute, Jack."

Jack snorted then groaned, raising his hand to his throbbing temple. "Don't make me laugh, Phryne." He lay down again and pulled up the covers, turning to her and pulling her closer. "Come here, nurse Fisher," he said, wrapping his arm around her and kissing her forehead. "I need you to make me feel better, I feel truly awful. You?"

"Dreadful."

They both laughed softly as they settled in each other's arms. "It's raining," Jack murmured, "perfect cuddling weather. I think we should stay here all day." Phryne nodded slowly and pressed a kiss to his chest. The smell and the feel of him helped fade the memory of her dream and she allowed herself to close her eyes again. Sleep, she thought, that's what they needed and then everything would be all right again.

* * *

The rest of the morning was spent in a daze. They eventually got out of bed and prepared a hot breakfast and coffee. They lazed around on the verandah, both with a book, listening to the rain. Wherever they sat, they stayed close, Phryne had some part of her draped possessively over him: her legs in his lap, her head on his shoulder, her hand on his thigh. Every now and then, Jack would lean in to press a kiss to whichever part of her was within reach and they would look at each other and smile in solidarity, knowing that they shared the same pain. They didn't talk much; neither had the energy or lucidity for their usual witty repartee but they were inseparable, even bathing together, not wanting to spend a moment apart.

They managed some lunch but the exertion exhausted them and they returned to the lounge on the verandah. Curled up together, without the energy to engage in any other activity, Phryne was unable to ignore her thoughts. She looked over at Jack and reflected on their wonderful time here together. They had only shared two nights as lovers but had fallen into a level of comfort with each other usually reserved for long-time sweethearts, or, if she dared think it, married couples. She hadn't properly thought through what would happen when they left here, to return to the city and to their lives and neither had she wanted to, but she would have to eventually. She knew that there were some aspects of her lifestyle that she would be expected to change and that alone should have sent her packing, but she had surprised herself by being comfortable with the idea of loving him and him only. They were in love with each other, she was sure of it now, and that simple fact had changed everything.

Phryne thought about how their relationship would work when they returned home. They had found it so easy loving each other here but she suspected going home would be hard for them. They would no doubt return home to gossip and innuendo and they would have their morals called into question. She inwardly scoffed at this; she had nothing to lose, there were many who thought she had no morals to begin with but she suspected that this would be difficult for Jack. It could affect his standing as a high-ranking police officer, which could have flow-on effects for his cases. She closed her eyes and groaned inwardly, it could even jeopardise the case against Fletcher and Sanderson, another conveniently forgotten problem. And of course there was Roberts' trial. Yes, she thought wryly, going home was going to be tough for them both, but at least they would tackle these problems together.

* * *

The rain eased up and the sun came out in the late afternoon. After an early dinner of left-over stew, they were feeling more like themselves and had ventured outside. Sensibly dressed in trousers and boots, they slowly walked hand-in-hand along the ridge top, not far from the homestead. Phryne was enjoying the fresh air and the beauty of the bush after rain: previously unnoticed spiderwebs glistened with raindrops and the leaves of the canopy sparkled as they moved in the breeze, catching the rays of the setting sun. She was feeling immeasurably better and was thankful to be up and about.

"How's your mistletoe poem coming along, Jack," she teased.

"Coming along nicely in my head, thank you."

"When do I get to see it?"

"See it? That wasn't part of the challenge, I thought I just had to write it," he teased, moving his hand to her waist to pull her in closer. He planted a kiss on the side of her head as she snaked her arm around his waist and looked up at him. She loved it when Jack teased her.

"Someone will have to judge whether it is more romantic than Shakespeare's description, and given that I gave you the challenge, I think that should be me, don't you think?"

"That depends," he said, suddenly steering Phryne off the track to stand under a gum tree, "on whether I can restore the romance of mistletoe for you."

She looked up and smiled. The unmistakable mess of a mistletoe was directly above them.

"I need to rectify that first, don't you think," he continued, "otherwise no poem I write about mistletoe could ever be considered romantic by you, which would render you unsuitable as a judge and be a disadvantage to me in this challenge of yours," Jack said, pulling her closer.

Phryne grinned up at him. "Point taken, Jack. You better give it your best shot then," she said, playfully puckering her lips.

He wrapped one arm around her waist, the other hand splayed between her shoulders. They swayed together for a while, gazing into each other's eyes, ignoring the protests of the birds wanting to roost above them. The doubts Phryne had earlier about their troubles at home melted away and she felt the urge to tell him how she felt about him and to reassure him that what they had between them was special and would survive any problems that their life back home would throw at them. She was distracted by Jack's fingers gently caressing the back of her head and threading through her hair. He drew her to him and gently kissed her, their tongues melding sensuously together.

They kissed for a while, both of them oblivious to the car that had turned off its engine and was slowly rolling down the drive to the homestead. The relative quiet suddenly erupted into shrill bird calls, not the usual cacophony at dusk but a warning of imminent danger. Jack suddenly stopped kissing Phryne and looked towards the homestead. A large flock of cockatoos had taken to the sky above the drive. They were clearly rattled by something.

"Phryne get down," he said urgently, pulling her roughly behind the tree and low to the ground.

Phryne's eyes widened. "What is it Jack?" she asked, suddenly worried.

"It's the birds, they have been spooked by something on the drive. Get behind that rock there, I'll go and investigate." Jack saw Phryne's worried face. "Don't worry, it's probably just a dog," he reassured her. He gave Phryne a quick kiss on the lips and slunk away to see what had spooked the birds. He crept forward, thankful for the low light and dark clothes. In truth, he was worried; he knew that cockatoos weren't rattled by much but had developed a distrust of people after being shot at by farmers for years. It would take something big to get all those birds into the air just as they were settling down to roost. He stayed behind the tree and looked through the scrub to the drive. The last of the sun's rays caught something shiny about half way down the drive and Jack felt the blood drain from his face. It was a car.

They had found her.

Jack dropped to the ground and ran his hands through his hair. Shit! They were stranded away from the house and their weapons and had no quick way of getting to the house without being seen. He stayed like that for a short while, trying to focus his hungover brain so he could think of what to do. He turned to scamper back to Phryne and hatch a plan.

He crouched down and ran from tree to rock, hoping they would be focused on the house and not see him. He got back to the rock where he left her and quickly moved behind it.

She was gone.

Jack felt panic rise as he frantically looked around to see where she had gone. "Phryne!" he whispered. There was no answer. He listened and heard the faint crackling of something large pushing through the bush. For the first time in a long time he didn't know what to do and fought panic. They were incredibly vulnerable separated from the house without weapons and he didn't know where Phryne was. Damn her! Why couldn't she just do what she was told for once?

Jack sank to the ground and put his head in his hands, fighting back panic. He needed a plan but his slow brain couldn't move on from her desertion of him. He felt betrayed; this is what he did best and she clearly didn't trust him and had decided to take matters into her own hands. This was a major sore point between them but he took a deep breath, acknowledging the need to push that aside and deal with it later. Now he needed to think, he needed to know who was in that car and how many there were of them. He felt panicky again as the reality of their situation sunk in: they may not make it out alive, or worse, he would make it out alive without her.

* * *

Phryne watched Jack sneak towards the drive for a better view. He had tried to stop her worrying by telling her it could be a dog but she knew him better than that. She knew Jack suspected something sinister and she trusted his instinct. She also trusted her own instincts: she recognised the edge in his voice and knew they had found her. She was starting to feel the unfamiliar crush of panic: they were utterly exposed.

Phryne's instincts were screaming at her to run to the house to get weapons. She faltered; she had to make a decision: stay and wait to hear that they were surrounded or go to the house and fight for their lives. She felt in this case it would be best if they separated. She knew that time was running out: the sooner she got to the house, the better chance they had of surviving this. She knew Jack would be furious with her but she felt that they didn't have time. She was sure she was making the right decision and she stood, took one last look towards Jack and ran into the bush.

Phryne hatched a plan as she ran. The best way to the house would be to follow the creek line. The small creek below her ran into the larger one with the pool and then she would find her way up the path and head up to the homestead through the long grass. Yes, that would work. She scurried off down the gully to make her way to the small creek below. Her gun was in her bag at the house, but she couldn't risk getting it so her only hope was the shotgun that they kept in the room under the house. The light was starting to fade so she needed to move quickly.

She ran, stumbling over rocks and pushing through scrub. She held her arms out in front of her to shield her from the spiky branches that whipped at her face. The mossy rocks were slippery from the rain and she stumbled and fell forward, putting both hands out to break the fall. She skidded along the rocky ground, tearing the skin on the palms of her hands. She knew she was hurt and would be bleeding but the adrenalin had kicked in and she felt nothing but fear.

All her cells in her body urged her on: she had to get to the house to get a weapon, without one they would die, she was sure of that. She got to her feet and kept going, cursing the scrub that became denser as she neared the creek. She felt that the bush that she had fallen in love with had turned against her; prickles and twigs now reached out to grab her, as if they were mocking her feeble attempts to push through them. She put her injured hands out in front of her again and kept going. Phryne choked back a sob; she was sickened with the idea that those thugs had sullied this beautiful place that was so special to Jack.

Jack.

She knew he would be furious that she had decided to act alone, once again defying his wishes but he didn't understand. She wasn't doing this to hurt him, she didn't question his judgement, it wasn't pigheadedness, it was her experience with feeling powerless that compelled her to act. She was spurred on by her painful memories of helplessness: as a child witnessing her drunken father beat her mother or sister, having Janey taken from her forever, watching bloodied men die in her arms, being under Rene's sadistic control. She felt powerless until she realised she didn't have to feel that way and she took control of her life again. She had promised herself ever since that she would always do something if she could. No, Phryne Fisher was not going to go down without a fight and she forged on ahead; she had to save Jack.

* * *

Jack stood where he had left Phryne and considered his options. He was still panicky but had stopped frantically looking around, whispering her name in the hope that she had sought a more secure shelter a short distance away. He ran his hands through his hair, willing his hung-over brain to start working. Think!

Phryne had gone back to the homestead to get weapons, he was sure of that. She had stupidly and single-mindedly decided to tackle this head on by herself. He had to concede that without weapons he was sure they would both die but they could have done it together. Damn her! He knew how long it would take her to reach the house by moving along the gully. He hoped it would be dark enough for her to sneak up through the long, autumn grass, and was thankful that she also wore dark colours. He decided the only thing to do was act as a decoy and emerge from the bush alone in the hope that they would not shoot him on site and believe him when he told them that she was somewhere safe, far from here. This was the only reason that they would keep him alive.

He peered towards the drive. The birds were still protesting so he knew they were still there. Didn't they realise the alarm calls of the birds would give them away? At least they were stupid, he thought. He sat on a rock to track Phryne's journey down the gully in his mind. If this was indeed what she had done, she should be near the wooden fence at the bottom of the paddock by now, the perfect time for him to walk out in the open towards them.

He stood up and ran his hands through his hair. He felt naked: no coat, no gun, no armour. He took a deep breath and walked out of the trees.

* * *

Phryne had reached the track that had led her and Jack to the pool. She sighed with relief and ran, knowing her journey would be easier from now on. Her hands and face were stinging and her clothes were torn from the run through the scrub but she barely noticed. She was single-minded in her plan to get a weapon. She came to the wooden fence just as she heard shouting from the other side of the house. She froze. She couldn't make out the words but the tone was threatening. Her heart pounded her chest. It was now or never.

She climbed over the gate and crawled on all fours like a dog, wincing at the pain in her hands. Phryne moved quickly up through the grass and reached the back of the homestead. She stopped under the verandah and listened, careful to check for sounds of someone hiding close by. Satisfied that they were still out the front, she felt her way in the dark to the gun cabinet in the back.

Please don't let this be locked, she begged silently. It was just like Jack to do the right thing and secure the shotgun after use. She put her hand on the knob and turned. She sighed in relief as the door opened.

She let out a wail. The cabinet was empty.


	10. Chapter 10

_Warning: this chapter contains graphic descriptions of violence and implied sexual violence.  
_

* * *

Phryne

Phryne felt a wave of panic. She was so sure the shotgun would be there and she would be able to save Jack. She was panting with fear and exertion and sat on a box to compose herself and let her eyes adjust to the darkness. She heard more murmuring. Her eyes widened as she recognised Jack's voice. She tried to focus on the words but couldn't make out what he said. She hoped, no, she knew that Jack would realise that she had run back to the homestead for a weapon. She had suspected that he would confront them head on to give her a bit more time to locate the shotgun. She huffed out a wry laugh; despite her running off without him, they still managed to work as a team.

Jack. She welled up with tears. She couldn't let him down, she had to act quickly; they would no doubt search the house and discover her belongings, then after that there was no reason to keep him alive. She knew what these men were capable of: they wouldn't hesitate to kill.

She needed a gun and if not a gun then something she could use as a weapon. She thought about getting into the house but the verandah was too high for her to get onto easily, and she suspected that they would soon search the house. She wiped away her tears and frantically looked around to see if she could find anything suitable. She couldn't believe her eyes, propped up against the wall just inside the door was the shotgun, no doubt quickly discarded by Jack the night before as he juggled the cooking and prepared the table for dinner. She remembered him taking it away; he was rushed and already feeling the effects of the whiskey.

Phryne heard voices as she ran to the gun and snatched it from the wall. It was double barrelled and, she assumed, empty: two shots, two rabbits, but she checked anyway. Nothing. She ran back to the cabinet, tripping over something and falling on her knees and sore hands. She let out a small cry as she heard the gun clatter along the ground. She ignored the pain in her hands and knees as she crawled and felt for it along the floor. The light under the house was too dim for her to see well but she located it quickly and moved to the cabinet to feel along its lower shelves. She wasn't feeling so panicked anymore; she was focused and driven, determined to get out alive and save Jack.

Phryne heard more talking and then raised voices. "Shoot him!" She stood up suddenly and gasped, unable to move. It felt like eternity waiting and listening. Gunshot and shattering glass filled the valley. She let out a sob. NO! NO! Please, no!

She wanted to run to him, to make sure he was still alive but she knew this would be stupid. She let out a wail, terrified that she had lost him. Please, let him be alive, she silently begged. Now was the time to pray, if ever there was one but she had nothing and no-one to pray to. She only had herself and she had to keep going, she had to get to Jack. She frantically swept her sore hands along the shelf, willing them to find something and grimacing with pain as her hands ran over dust and grit. The shelf was empty. No! This could not be happening! If she couldn't find ammunition, she would have to get into the house to get her gun. It was risky, but their chance of getting out alive was so dire that any risk was worth taking. She heard laughter and felt a wave of panic that caused her to sway in the darkness and she gripped the shelf in the cabinet to steady herself. She gritted her teeth and turned her pain, fear and grief into anger and all she could think about was revenge. Time was running out, Jack could be lying there bleeding or … no, she refused to think that. Regardless of what they had done, she would hunt them down and make sure they hanged.

Her hands moved to the top shelf as she continued to search for a box or loose cartridges. She stretched as far as she could into the corner. Nothing. She tried the other corner. Her fingers brushed up against the edge of a box. Her heart leapt and she jumped, reaching back with the extra height of the jump to grab it. Yes! She sobbed in relief and quickly loaded the gun, thankful for the lesson she had before shooting clay pigeons with distant family in England. She snapped the gun shut and moved quickly to the door of the room, listening for any signs of danger. When she was sure it was safe, she slowly moved out of the darkness.

* * *

Jack

Jack walked into the clearing, trying to look nonchalant, hoping they would think he was there alone and out for an evening stroll. He was still feeling shattered by Phryne's departure and he clung to the small splinter of hope he had managed to salvage before stepping out of the trees. He distracted himself by wondering how they had found them. He cast his mind back to the argument that they had in her parlour before she agreed to accompany him here. She was right, but he was too angry with her to consider it: there had to be police on Roberts' payroll, someone who knew someone that could either access his records or knew that he came here often. How could he have been so stupid?

Jack was ambushed before he got to the porch. They had emerged from the bushes that lined the drive and stood behind trees, yelling at him to stay where he was. He sized them up; there were two of them: one small and wiry, the other predictably tall and hefty, probably the gang's muscle. He was pointing a gun at Jack.

The small one looked like an old jockey, wrinkled and skinny and just over five foot. Despite his diminutive size, he had the air of a man who was on the brink of something big; he presumably worked for the heir to the throne. He wore a shabby jacket that was clearly too big for him and puffed on cigarette that hung out of the corner of his mouth. Jack wondered why they were doing this now rather than ambushing them in the middle of the night. They looked impatient and edgy, like time was running out for them. He figured they had a deadline to meet.

Jack pretended to be startled and stopped by the car. The larger of the two with the gun stayed back, positioning himself behind a tree, nervously glancing around him, not knowing if Phryne was armed somewhere out there. But he wasn't too worried, she was only a woman after all.

The smaller one smirked and casually swaggered towards him, oozing bravado knowing the big bloke had his back. Jack suspected he was carrying a pistol under his jacket. "Hands in the air, copper," he said calmly. "Don't even think about moving or we'll blow ya pretty head off."

Jack froze. He slowly raised his arms. He didn't need to pretend to be scared; his heart was thumping in his chest. There were at least two of them, maybe more in the car. He quickly tried to work out how to play this but was feeling slow witted from his lingering hangover and unusually panicked. He was usually level headed and focused in dangerous situations and apart from a few lucky escapes he had always felt in control. But this was different, this was about Phryne and he was unarmed at gunpoint, here at the homestead by people who wanted her dead.

The small one moved towards him and checked him for a weapon. He took a step back and spoke again. His voice was surprisingly deep for a man of his size. "Where the fuck is she and don't play dumb with me, I know you took her somewhere. Frankie here is a very good shot, so you need to tell us if she's in the house with a weapon or he'll shoot you."

Jack tried to remain calm. He took a deep breath and looked down at him. "She's not in the house. She's not here … she's far from here; somewhere safe where you will never find her."

"Is that so," he said, smirking. He took a drag on his cigarette and blew smoke slowly towards Jack. "So if we were to go for a little wander around this lovely house of yours, we wouldn't find any traces of her?" He raised his voice, clearly annoyed. "Whadya take me for, a fuckin' drongo? I know all about you two. I don't think you would have let her out of your sight." He nodded slowly, "She's in there, and when we find her, well, I think we might have a bit of fun with her, Frankie and me. She's a looker, that's for sure."

Jack shut his eyes and tried to get the image of what they may do to her out of his head. He tried to look calm but he was sweating and clearly affected by his words, despite knowing they were meant to rattle him.

"Aw, look Frankie, it's true, our copper friend fancies the Honourable _Miss Fisher._" Her name came out as a hiss. "I've changed my mind. We'll kill him after we have fun with her … so he can watch."

Jack felt a new wave of panic. What kind of sick bastards were these people? He knew he didn't have long. Once they saw she had been in the house they would torture him to find out where she was, and after realising he wouldn't tell them, they would kill him. Where was she? Surely she would be under the house by now and would have retrieved the ... Shit! The gun … He didn't put it away but left it just inside the door rather than navigate the bicycles and tools that littered the path to the cupboard in his rushed and tipsy state.

He needed to stall them to give her time to find it but he couldn't decide how to play it; his brain wasn't working and he was numb with fear. He knew he needed to appear to be confident; he just needed to calm down. He breathed in slowly and deeply and lifted his head and stared down at him. "Who told you she was here? One of your mates? The bent copper? Don't you think I factored all of that in? I knew you'd come here looking for her. And anyway, how can you be sure you weren't sent on a wild goose chase. I can't imagine there'd be a lot of trust between you lot, we know you've been killing each other to get the top job." Jack was rambling, saying the first thing that came into his head. He tried to keep his voice level despite the hammering in his chest. "We know who the bent copper is," he continued, "so you won't get away with this. It's amazing what people remember when they are faced with the noose."

The small one smiled and then looked annoyed. Not the response Jack was hoping for. "Shut ya trap, copper. One more word from you and Frankie here will shoot you. He won't kill you, just maim you a little so you'll die slowly." He twisted his body to talk to Frankie. His jacket shifted, exposing part of the pistol he had tucked in the band of his trousers. "Whadyareckon Frankie? I reckon she's inside. Maybe shooting her _sweetheart_ here," he said, looking back at Jack with disgust, "will bring her out. Or maybe she's already run away. Maybe she's deserted you? Used you and then bolted," he taunted. "I reckon she'd do that. She seems the type. I'll give you one more chance, copper, where is she?"

Jack was silent, his chest heaved with his ragged breathing. He was exhausted and felt very, very alone. He hung his head and fought back tears; everything was going wrong. He didn't know what to say.

"I think we should shoot him, Percy," Frankie called from behind the tree.

Jack's head snapped back up, his eyes wide with fear. "Yeah, you're right, Frankie, another dead copper's got to be a good thing, right?" Percy looked at Jack almost pitifully and then turned back to Frankie. "Shoot him!"

Jack watched Frankie take aim. His knees started to shake as he stared down the barrel of the gun. He held his breath and watched as he started to squeeze the trigger. He couldn't help but close his eyes. He was sweating profusely and fought panic. He thought of Phryne; he loved her, god he loved her, but he had failed her. He was going to die, he was certain of that now, and he felt sick at the thought of what they would they do to her if they caught her.

Despite the panic and fear, he opened his eyes and held his head high and waited for the inevitable. He heard the gun blast and the shatter of glass and felt himself stagger backwards. He fell against the climbing roses that wound around the post on the verandah, their thorns digging into him and keeping him upright. He felt the sting of the thorns on his back as they held him in place. The pain, the sweet pain, he was alive! He opened his eyes to see the two of them grinning at him. He looked over at the car; the bullet had shattered one of the side windows.

They both stood there laughing at him. They fell silent and looked at Jack quietly for a while, allowing him some time alone with his thoughts.

"Nearly shit yerself, did ya?" Percy laughed. "You shoulda seen the look on your face." He walked over to Jack and pushed him hard against the roses. Jack clenched his jaw and grimaced in pain. "We won't miss next time, so I suggest you tell us where she is."

Jack narrowed his eyes and looked at him. He clenched his jaw, anger now working its way to the surface. Those fucking bastards, he thought, how fucking dare they do this to him, to Phryne and to this beautiful place. They would kill him anyway so he may as well go down fighting. He knew if he tried to get the pistol from the band of Percy's pants Frankie would shoot him. The only way to play it was to use Percy as a shield. Jack flicked his eyes to look at Frankie's revolver. It was powerful enough to send a bullet through both their bodies from that distance.

He straightened. The adrenaline and his anger had sharpened his mental acuity. He could only hope that Phryne had found the shotgun by now and he knew she was savvy enough to check it for ammunition. He took a deep breath, he made up his mind: he would go for the pistol. He opened his eyes and stared at Percy, who shouted at him.

"I said where the fuck is she!"

He shook Jack, his tiny fists gripping Jack's shirt, his rancid breath in his face. Jack felt the sting of the thorns and slumped his body in the hope that Percy would think that he had given up, and as soon as he loosened his grip, he made his move.

* * *

Phryne

Phryne walked out of the room. It was twilight, that surreal moment when daytime ceases just before night-time begins, when time seems suspended. It felt like a dream, and she moved in slow motion, wading through the thick, eerie light. She was brought back to her awful reality by the squawks of the birds, who always seemed troubled at this time of day as they squabbled and jostled for space before bedding down for the night. They frustratingly drowned out any conversation, but their noise also worked in her favour: no-one would hear her coming.

She slowly moved out from underneath the verandah, and confident that she was not being watched, ran to hide behind the large water tank nestled into a high retaining wall that ran perpendicular to the house. She crouched as low as possible and made her way around the tank, thankful for the good cover. It's now or never, she told herself. She blew out a breath, steeled herself and prepared to climb up the wall for a look. The light was quite dim now, which gave her confidence that she would be able to peek over the wall without being seen. She stayed close to the water tank and looked for footholds so she could climb higher to support the shotgun on top of the wall. She leaned the gun up against the wall and climbed. A rock jutted out just enough for her to get a toehold and she pushed herself up to peer over the top. She could hear the voices more clearly now.

"I said where the fuck is she!"

He was alive! Relief flooded through her. She felt ecstatic and her confidence returned; she was certain they would get out alive now. She could see well in the low light, especially after moving from the dimness of the room under the house and she immediately detected the movement of a large man with a gun who was partly obscured by a tree. Frankie, she was sure of it; strong but dim witted, and if Frankie was here, then Percy would be here too. She watched him closely as she leant down and picked up the shotgun. Her balance was precarious so she lifted the gun slowly, tucking the butt of the stock into the crook of her shoulder and took aim at Frankie. She crouched down and put her finger on the first of the two triggers. Just as she was wondering how to proceed, the quiet erupted into yells and scuffles.

"Shoot him, Frankie! Shoot him!"

Her heart leapt in her chest. Jack was taking them on.

* * *

Jack

Jack grabbed Percy's shirt with one hand and hit him in the face with his fist. He had one hand to keep him close as a shield from a bullet and one to stop him reaching for his gun. Percy's eyes widened and he looked at him, momentarily shocked that Jack had decided to take him on. His right hand reached for his gun as his left tried to push himself away from Jack, but Jack's grip was strong and they twisted as they scuffled, Percy frantically calling for Frankie to shoot. They moved away from the porch, clutching at each other, turning and twirling in a frenzied waltz. Jack managed to keep Percy between him and Frankie's gun until Percy's feet hit the rocky border of the drive and he tumbled backwards. Jack fell on top of him, now completely exposed. He looked at Frankie, who stiffened and took aim.

"FRANKIE!"

They both turned their heads at the sound of her voice. Jack watched as Frankie twisted to face the side of the house and emerged from the tree with his gun aimed at her. Jack held his breath and heard two shots: the shotgun and revolver firing almost simultaneously. He saw Frankie fly backwards and felt a glimmer of hope. Phryne would come and save him now, he just had to stop Percy from getting his gun.

Percy took advantage of the distraction and head-butted Jack, stunning him and forcing him to loosen his grip on his arms. Jack grunted in pain and they scuffled on the ground, both knocking their hands away from each other, as fists sought faces and fingers sought eyes. Percy managed to get a hand to Jack's face but it was slippery with blood that poured from Jack's nose. Jack called to Phryne to help him, desperate for her help now; Percy was small but strong. Where was she? Why wasn't she coming to help him? He pushed away panic and focused on getting the gun; his life depended on this struggle and he gathered what strength he had left.

Percy managed to punch Jack in the temple and grabbed his gun from the ground where it had fallen from his pants. Jack was quick and knocked it out of his blood-soaked hand. They heard it clatter against the stones that lined the garden bed. They both scrambled for it, their feet unable to get purchase on the loose stones of the drive, so they scuttled on all fours. Percy was slightly ahead of Jack and he looked back and kicked him in the side of his head before throwing himself on the gun. Jack groaned but kept coming, throwing himself on top of him and pinning down the hand that held the gun. Percy twisted under him to shoot him just as Jack reached for a rock the size of his palm. They locked eyes for a second or two, both wide eyed and panting, both of them knowing they could be seconds from death.

Percy grunted as he mustered enough strength to twist his wrist and fire, just as Jack managed to knock Percy's arm away from him. The noise was deafening, momentarily shocking them both. Jack felt the bullet sail close to his head. He quickly came to his senses and gripped the rock tightly as he brought it down hard on his Percy's forehead. Percy groaned and fell backwards, dazed from the blow. Jack reached for the gun but Percy was not giving in yet and clung onto it. Jack was desperate now, and raised his arm and again smashed the rock into his skull, sickened by the sound of it. Percy went limp and let go of the gun. Jack grabbed it and tried to stand. His legs gave way and he staggered backwards, falling onto the stones. He was breathing hard. He stared at the pistol in his hand in confusion. He was numb; the shock of the fight and his injuries had dazed him and he was unsure of what to do next. His breathing was shallow and rapid and he started to sweat. Snippets of the evening came back to him. He again looked at the gun and then it hit him. Phryne.

He got to his feet and stumbled, falling on all fours. He looked over at Percy lying lifeless in front of him. It was quite dark now but he could just make out the dark stain of blood on the stones that had spread from his head. Jack looked at his hand that still gripped the rock. He cried out in horror at what had just happened and flung it into the darkness. He tried to focus his thoughts. Phryne! Where was Phryne, what had happened to her? He managed to stand and staggered to where Frankie was. As dazed as he was, he knew he had to get Frankie's gun. He reached the tree and leant against it as he looked at the body on the ground. Jack turned quickly and vomited, falling to his knees, coughing and retching. Frankie wasn't going anywhere.

He slowly stood up and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He was dizzy and fought panic. He turned to look at the side of the house, knowing he might find her dead too. He was dreaming, he must be dreaming. He stumbled the short distance to the wall on unsteady legs and looked down into the darkness. He sucked in a breath as he made out her body. She had been thrown backwards beyond the water tank and lay twisted, face down. The shotgun was lying close by. He let out a sob and jumped down, desperate now to get to her. He skidded to her on the sloping ground, turning her and roughly pulling her into his arms. He was sobbing now, rocking back and forth as he cradled her limp body. He was shaking his head and struggling to breathe.

"NOOO! NO, NO, NO!"

He threw back his head and howled. He had lost her. He had failed to protect her and now she was gone. He sobbed as he gathered her closer and buried his face in her neck. He pressed his cheek to hers and in between sobs he whispered, "I love you Phryne, I love you." He sat with her in his arms for a short while, and calmed by his own words, he quietened and his sobs slowly subsided. He looked at her face in the dark, reaching out to gently tuck her hair behind her ear. How could he ever recover from this? He leant down and kissed her softly on the lips. "I'm so sorry, Phryne," he whispered. "My love, my beautiful Phryne." He let out a sob again and gently stroked her face. He moved his thumb across her forehead and down the side of her face and along her jaw. As he gently traced her lips with his fingers, she opened her eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

_A quick note to say thank you for taking the time to leave a comment. As I have said before, I really love reading them and knowing that you are still reading my story. _

_I'd also like to wish you a very merry holiday season, whatever you are celebrating, and let you know that I will be away and will not be posting another chapter for a few weeks. Even I need to recover from that last chapter ..._

* * *

Jack sucked in a breath. Could it be true? The clouds had come back, blocking the stars and the light. He leaned in closer to look at her face. Her eyelids fluttered and she opened them and blinked slowly. His head was ringing from the gun blast next to his ear so he twisted his neck and put his good ear to her mouth. Her breathing was shallow and laboured but she was alive! Jack looked at her and was suddenly terrified that he may lose her again. What should he do? He was stricken with uncertainty and stilled, worried that any movement would cause her to die in his arms.

He felt her move and she groaned softly. He looked at her again and wailed. _Phryyyneee_. He was sure now she would die. He sat there rocking her, his wet cheek against hers, waiting for her to take her last breath, waiting to feel her body sink into his arms as death claimed her.

Phryne moved again, more forcibly this time and sucked in a breath with the pain. She reached up and placed her hand where it hurt and felt the lump on her head. What had just happened? She was dizzy and confused and the intense pain in her head made her feel nauseous. "Jack?" Her voice was barely a whisper. How did she get here and why was Jack crying? She groaned and gave into the pain and let her arm flop back to her body. She was tired and she wanted to sleep as she let her body relax into his arms.

Jack started to sob and pulled her closer. Phryne cried out in pain as Jack pressed into her shoulder. She was feeling less groggy now and she focussed on Jack. He was weeping and rocking her gently. She tried to remember what had just happened. She felt dazed and unfocused and she fought the urge to go back to sleep. Something was wrong, she needed to wake up and she frowned in frustration as she struggled with memories that were just past her reach. She remembered gunshot and birds and cupboards in dark places. She felt like someone had taken her memories and shuffled them; her mind now dealing her snippets of disarranged images: mistletoe, gates, kissing and grass.

She blinked a few times and opened her eyes. She was starting to feel less dizzy and groaned again with the intense pain in her head and her shoulder. What had caused the pain in her shoulder? She remembered leaning into something that was hard and cold with something tucked into her shoulder. She remembered gunshot. The wall, the shotgun! The memories returned: Frankie and Percy, Jack without a weapon. She remembered now; she had climbed the wall and pointed the gun at Frankie. The last thing she remembered was Frankie turning to her with his gun raised. He was going to shoot her. She had to know what happened and with a throbbing head she tried to sit up but Jack held her tightly.

"Jack. You're all right. What happened? Where are Frankie and Percy?" She spoke slowly and her words were slurred.

Jack stiffened and laid her down gently on the ground. What should he do? He was still panting and sweating, terrified that she would still die. He hadn't assessed her injuries, he seemed incapable of making a decision and was rigid with uncertainty. She tried to sit up but he stopped her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Ow!" Jack quickly removed his hands, his eyes wide. "Jack, help me up." He stared at her. "Jack! Help me sit up." What was he doing? Phryne held out her left arm. He looked at her for a few seconds, not knowing what to do. He finally reached out to her and pulled her into a sitting position. Phryne's hand flew to the back of her head as the throbbing intensified from the change in position. "My head! Jack, what happened? Are you injured?"

Jack stared at her. "I, I thought you were dead, Phryne. I thought I had lost you," he whispered, his shaky voice barely audible. He sucked in a breath and hung his head.

Phryne could just make out the movement of his shoulders as he cried in the dark. She shuffled closer to him and reached out to touch him, grasping the back of his neck with her left hand to pull him closer. "It's all right, Jack", she said soothingly into his neck, I am fine, just a little sore. Are you all right? Tell me Jack, I need to know. What about Percy and Frankie? What happened? Are we safe?"

Jack stayed where he was, still crying, slowly shaking his head. Phryne moved back from him and reached out to tug at his shoulder. "JACK! You need to tell me, are we safe?" Phryne was worried now: he was in a very bad way. She was desperate to know what had happened but couldn't get through to him. She knew the signs, he was in shock and she needed to get him inside, to get him warm.

"Jack, listen to me, I'm fine, I have hurt my shoulder and I hit my head and passed out, but I'm all right. I need to get inside. I need you to help me, Jack, we both need to get inside."

She tried to stand but the pain in her head and her shoulder was almost too much to bear. She sat back down and clenched her jaw. After a short while she stood up slowly, her right hand gripping her clothes to take the weight off her shoulder. She placed her other hand on his shoulder to steady herself as she slowly pushed her way up. Her hand was balled into a fist to protect her sore palm. When she was up she reached down and gently shook him. "Jack, take me inside, we need to get inside. We need to make sure we are both safe."

Jack stopped crying and looked up at her. She held out her hand for him, as a mother would do to a young child. "Here, take my hand. I'm all right Jack, but I need to make sure you are. Come with me, Jack." She tried to sound normal but was feeling nauseous from the pain in her shoulder and throb in her head. She must have fired the shotgun and hit her head when she flew backwards, presumably from the recoil. How long was she unconscious for? She could only presume that Frankie and Percy were both dead and wondered if she had shot Frankie. She shuddered at the thought of it. Everything was coming back to her now.

Jack had stopped crying but had not taken her hand. "Please Jack. We need to get inside. I need to lie down."

Jack turned his head to look at her slowly, just making out her silhouette against the faint glow of the sky. He still couldn't believe it: she was alive. He didn't take her hand, but got on all fours and slowly pushed himself up, swaying a bit from dizziness and the slope of the ground.

Phryne was suddenly worried that he was badly injured. Had he been shot? All the more reason to get him inside. He stood beside her and she reached out to take his hand, the tips of her fingers entwined in his to protect her sore palm. She set off slowly and fought back nausea as the pain from her head and her shoulder threatened to overwhelm her. She reverted to the dreamlike state she experienced when she first came out of the room under the house.

They walked the long way to the front of the house as neither of them was fit to scramble up the wall or walk through the thick bush. Jack walked a step behind her, pulled along by her tight grip on his fingers, his ragged breathing spurring her on. They laboured up past the tree by her window and around the garden bed to the path that led to the house. They got to the car and she felt Jack slow and she turned to look at to him. He stiffened and stopped, not wanting to go any further. She followed his gaze and could just make out a body lying mostly in the garden bed on the other side of the path. Percy. She wondered if she should check for a pulse, convinced now that Jack in a state of shock may have neglected to do so but was worried that it would cause him further distress. She let go of Jack's fingers and took a few steps towards Percy. She could just see the spread of blood from his head. Satisfied he was dead, she returned to Jack.

"Not far now Jack, we have to get you inside." She stood next to him and wrapped her arm around his waist to guide him forwards, feeling him tremble. He eventually moved with her, past the post with the roses and onto the porch. She let go of him to open the door and enter the house. She was really worried now; he was clearly in a very bad way.

Phryne walked on ahead and turned on the lamp in the living room, shutting her eyes from the sudden glare of the light and the pain that it caused in her head. Jack remained by the door on the porch and she returned to gently coax him inside. As she drew him into the soft light, she gasped at his appearance and her eyes filled with tears. He was bloodied and bruised, his face swollen from Percy's fists and from crying. His hands were also covered in blood and mud and his knuckles were puffy and grazed. Phryne felt ill and she felt tears run down her face, the pressure from crying causing more pain in her head.

Jack stood there, staring blankly at the fireplace, as she looked for blood on the front of his shirt. She moved behind him and frowned at the pattern of blood on his back. She took off his shirt and gasped at the wounds and deep scratches. What had happened to him? Was he tortured? How could they do this to him? She ran her fingertips gently over his back and he flinched. She turned him to get a better look in the light from the lamp and she found several thorns still embedded in his back.

She put his shirt back on him and sat him down on one of the couches. With her hand firmly pressed to her sore head, she walked quickly to the bathroom to light the chip heater so she could run him a bath, then went to her room to get him a blanket and some aspirin for them both. Her head was still pounding and her shoulder was incredibly sore but she knew it wasn't dislocated. She knew she was lucky; she could have been shot or died from hitting her head. She knelt in front of him and wrapped him in the blanket, holding the edges together just under his chin. She put her hand on his shoulder.

"Jack, are they dead?" Jack slowly raised his head and stared at her blankly, blinking slowly. "Are they dead Jack; I just need to make sure we are safe."

He hung his head and nodded. A tear slid down his face and he raised his head to look at her. His ear was still ringing but he wasn't feeling so dizzy anymore. He was still trembling but the fog in his brain was starting to lift and he saw her for the first time since the fight. He barely recognised her: her hair was matted with mud and her face was dirty but he could see that she was covered in cuts and welts from running through the bush. He looked at her hands that were holding the blanket together. They were bloodied and raw; most of the skin had been scraped off the heel of her palms. He frowned as he reached out to push her hair from her face, gently tracing her scratches. He had flashes of horror, of stones and eyes wide with panic and he remembered looking for her after she had left him alone and run back to the house. Despite all that had happened, it was the image of her crumpled body that was causing him to tremble. His eyes welled up again and he shut them tightly; he just couldn't stop crying. He sniffed loudly and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He was exhausted and just wanted to sleep.

He opened his eyes again and took in his surroundings. Phryne was still kneeling in front of him, watching his every move. He was warmer now and he felt like he was being slowly pulled back to the present. Being swaddled in a blanket and sitting in the soft glow of the lamp in the lounge room had soothed him and he started to relax a little. The empty couch beckoned him, and he decided he wanted to lie down and fall asleep with his family around him in front of the fire. He slowly lay down on the couch and put his bloodied and sore head on a cushion. Phryne worked quickly to take his muddy shoes off, letting him do what he needed to do, the bath could wait. He sighed as he closed his eyes and balled his swollen hands into loose fists, which he tucked under his chin.

Phryne got off her knees and sat on the lounge with him. She lay her arm along his body in a grotesque parody of the time she was pressed up against him three nights ago, looking longingly at his handsome features. Now she sat with him and cried, trying to avoid looking at his bloodied and beaten face. She was exhausted and also wanted to lie down but there was work to do. There were bodies outside and as much as she hated them for what they had done, she couldn't leave them there overnight: they would be mauled by animals.

She slowly shook her head as she cried. She wanted someone to soothe her, to help her help Jack. She felt alone and isolated and although she was in no state to do it, she would have to leave him and somehow drive into town and alert the police. She listened to his ragged breathing and felt the tremble in his body and she started to sob. All she could do was to stay close to him in the hope that he would feel loved and cared for.

Jack heard her crying. He opened his eyes to look at her and he finally seemed to register that she was also in a bad way. He reached out to her and she let him pull her onto the lounge to lie next to him, their faces almost touching. He smelt strongly of blood and vomit and she moved her face so she could kiss him softly on his forehead. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arm tightly around him.


	12. Chapter 12

_Thank you for all your lovely holiday wishes. I hope you all had a great break over Christmas and New Year._

* * *

Phryne wanted to stay clinging to Jack all night. Both of them had suffered terribly and they needed each other's support but with two dead bodies just outside the door, someone needed to go to the police and Jack was in no state to do anything. She took a deep breath and slowly sat up. Her head was still hurting but not nearly as much as when she first regained consciousness. Her shoulder was throbbing with pain but she had more movement in her arm now and was confident that she would be able to drive.

She looked at his swollen and battered face and wondered if his nose was broken. She ran her hand through his hair, her nails gently caressing his scalp. He blinked slowly at her touch but didn't look at her. He was exhausted and no doubt in pain but as far as she could tell he had not sustained any serious injuries so she wasn't too worried about his wounds, as hard as it was to see him this way. What concerned her now was his emotional state; he hadn't said anything since they came inside and although he seemed to relax a little, his breathing was still rapid and shallow and he had been staring vacantly at the fireplace since he lay on the couch.

She looked at him lying there; what had he gone through? She was desperate to know what had happened when she was unconscious and racked her brain, which was still a bit fuzzy, to try and remember the sequence of events before she hit her head. She remembered Percy telling Frankie to shoot him. She heard the gunshot and then laughter. Memories of the panic she felt when she thought they had killed him brought tears to her eyes and she fought back a sob. It must have been terrifying for him. She knew from his injuries that there had been a struggle and he had ended up in the rose bush, or he had been pushed in there as a form of torture. She grimaced at the thought of it. She remembered aiming the shotgun at Frankie. She fired and then nothing. What had happened to Frankie? Did she shoot him? Did she kill him? She shuddered at the thought of it but knew that discussion would have to wait until he had come out of his shock and was feeling stronger.

She thought back to when she regained consciousness. She remembered waking in his arms as he gripped her tightly. He was rigid with shock and was sobbing because he thought she was dead. He was so unresponsive, so unlike him and it had shocked her to see him like that.

She closed her eyes as she sat pressed against him. Phryne had seen men like this as a nurse during the war. They came to the hospital with relatively minor injuries, some self-inflicted, and sat staring, blinking slowly. They were shell shocked and exhausted but were too frightened to get much-needed sleep, terrified of reliving the war in their dreams. When they finally fell asleep, if she wasn't too busy, she would sit with them, mopping their brow and holding their hand as their twisted and gruesome memories caused them to cry out in horror. It was this aspect of the war she found the hardest to cope with: the dead were dead but the living sometimes wanted to be; anything to shut out those images. Her heart ached for those men, some of whom were still boys. They were patched up and told to man up so they could be sent back to the front and thrown back into the bloody and terrifying chaos of the fields and the trenches. Their wounds may have healed but their spirits were broken: they were terrified and confused and all she could do was focus on the next batch of wounded and try not to think about their inevitable deaths.

Her hand had stilled in his hair and she opened her eyes and closed them again to shut out her own horrors of the war and looked again at Jack. Was he one of those men who had suffered so terribly? Is this what he alluded to when he spoke of being deeply affected by the war?

Phryne got up slowly and walked to the bathroom to put out the fire in the water heater and returned to sit beside him. They could bathe later. She took in a deep breath to steel herself for the drive into town.

"Jack," she said softly, putting her hand on his shoulder and leaning in close, "I am going to go and get help now. Will you be all right?"

He looked at her and nodded. That was a good sign. She stood slowly and moved through the house locking all windows and doors, unsure if anyone else would come after them. She placed her gun in her purse and retrieved Jack's gun from his bedroom and placed it on the table before him. She sat beside him and saw his eyes move to look at it.

"I won't be long, Jack. Try and get some sleep while I'm gone. I think we may be in for a late night."

She leant in and kissed him on the forehead and stood up to leave when he reached out to grab her wrist. She looked down and saw him grimace at the pain in his bloody and swollen hand. She leant closer and looked at him expectantly.

"Don't tell them anything." He spoke softly and slowly, his voice was hoarse. He looked at her for the first time in a while. "Let me do the talking."

Phryne frowned in confusion. He seemed more lucid than she thought he would be. "But, Jack, how will I explain …"

"Don't try and explain anything. Just tell them there were intruders on the property, that you are here with me and that there have been fatalities. Two dead."

"But I don't know what ..."

"Just do as I say!" he barked.

Phryne jumped slightly and straightened. She was shocked and confused at the anger in his voice and gently extracted her wrist from his grip. She stood there, trying to decide what to do. Her instinct was to refuse, and since he seemed perfectly capable of talking she could ask him what had happened.

"I need to know what happened, Jack."

He closed his eyes and sighed. "Not now, Phryne. Just go," he whispered. "Please. I need the time to pull myself together. You have to let me handle this. I will sort it out when they get here. You'll know soon enough."

Phryne was still feeling fragile and fought back tears as she looked at him, not knowing what to do. She eventually nodded. He was a senior police officer and it would be better coming from him. She didn't know why he couldn't tell her what happened, but assumed he was still reeling from the events and wasn't feeling strong enough yet to talk about it. He looked away from her and back to the fireplace, letting her know the conversation was over. She walked slowly to the door, fetched his keys from the hall table and walked out of the house.

Despite her agonisingly sore shoulder and hands, Phryne managed to manoeuvre Jack's car around Percy's body and squeeze it past his car on the drive. She was thankful she didn't have to move it to get past; the last thing she wanted to do was rummage in the pockets of dead men for keys.

She stopped the car at the end of the drive and let out a breath. She sat there for a while in the darkness to prepare herself for the task ahead but she thought about Jack. The last few days with him had been close to perfect. Being alone in this beautiful place had allowed them to be blissfully happy together, as lovers. Her long-held belief that she could not give herself to one man, which she had clung to since her terrible time with René, had weakened the moment she set foot on the property. What was it about this place? This was a house of love, and one that clearly meant so much to Jack, and was somewhere he could truly be himself. She felt tears run down her face. It was bad enough that he had suffered so terribly at the hands of Percy and Frankie, but that it happened here, at his refuge, was unspeakably cruel. His wounds would heal but Ulumbarra had changed forever.

Phryne blinked back her tears and sniffed loudly. What if he couldn't move on from this? She sighed and placed her forehead on the back of her gloved hands that were lightly gripping the wheel, just like Jack did after he left her house to pack for their journey. She had watched him in his car from the window of her darkened parlour and could just make out his silhouette slumped at the wheel. She could see he was troubled and she held her breath as she expected him to return to her house to tell her that he had changed his mind and that she should go to a safehouse as planned. But that never happened and here they were now. She huffed out a breath. What had she done? None of this would have happened if she had done what he asked of her and gone to a safe house. She straightened and tried to focus on the task ahead to avoid succumbing to that crippling emotion that she had learnt to repress, but she failed; she felt the full weight of guilt and she wept for him.

Phryne eventually stopped crying and focused on the low rumble of the engine and the soothing vibrations of the idling car. She needed to get going. She released the handbrake lever and focused on turning the car out of the drive with her one good arm but once on the road into town her mind drifted back to the events of the evening and she again wondered if she had killed Frankie. She tried hard to focus on driving one handed but her mind had other ideas. She knew a shotgun at short range would inflict terrible damage, but she was unsure that she hit him. If she did shoot him, how did he die? Slowly and painfully or instantly?

She loathed them for what they had done, and she was glad they were dead but she just couldn't fathom the idea that she may have killed someone. She didn't want to be a killer, she couldn't be. She had inflicted wounds, always in self-defence, but she had never killed anyone. Even when she had pointed her gun at the man she hated most in the world, the one who took Janey from her, she still couldn't bring herself to pull the trigger.

She felt a tear slide down her cheek again. Not knowing was eating away at her. She slowed to a stop and twisted her body to wind down the window with her good arm. She was starting to feel breathless and wanted air, wanted the sensation of the cool evening blowing over her.

She continued the drive towards town as she went over the events of the evening that she could remember. She felt uncharacteristically panicky as she thought again about what she would tell the police. Would they know who she was? She knew she had a reputation for being meddlesome and she had managed to annoy many police officers in her short time as a private detective, including those of high rank that she had recently exposed as patrons of bordellos. Would they see this as a way to punish her, as a way to shut her down? In truth, she was worried and was feeling apprehensive. She shook her head. Stop it, she thought, they had walked uninvited and armed onto the property, and no-one could possibly find her guilty of anything but acting in self-defence. She racked her brain for another memory that would allow her to think that she didn't shoot Frankie. Maybe she slipped before the gun went off, missing him entirely. That was also a possibility and the one that she clung to as she drove into town.

* * *

Jack heard Phryne lock the door behind her as she left to inform the police. He was achingly tired and he still couldn't quite believe they had both survived. He let out a breath and sat up slowly and looked at his gun that she had left on the table. A fat lot of good that was now. He took in as deep a breath as his sore ribs would allow and tried to stretch out his muscles. He was glad she was gone. He was starting to feel suffocated and claustrophobic pressed up against her like that. He had desperately wanted to be alone back at the homestead, away from her, so he could come to terms with what had just happened but her soft sobs had eventually gotten to him. He had never liked seeing her upset and he had used the little strength he had left to pull her to him, to comfort her despite his almost desperate need for solitude.

The pain of the stretch brought him back to the present. He was sore, really sore, but he was starting to feel more rational and knew that he had been in shock. He had seen this in others many times: as a policeman he had informed people of the loss of a loved one and watched helplessly as they collapsed dazed and distraught into a blithering mess. He knew to keep them warm and perhaps give them sweet tea if possible but he didn't really understand what they were going through, until now.

He took another deep breath and breathed out slowly, trying to slow the beat of his heart. His shock was lifting but he was losing himself to another feeling he knew all too well. He felt jittery and jumpy and was acutely aware of every little noise. He felt like the room around him had retreated and everything was out of reach. When he closed his eyes he felt like he was shrinking, being drawn away from the horrors of reality.

He opened his eyes but knew it was no use fighting it and gave in freely to the feeling of heaviness that had pervaded his body. He felt like he was being crushed by the enormity of what had just happened; the sounds and the smells and the feeling of flesh under his knuckles, the sickening sound of bone being crushed by a stone. And then there was Frankie. He squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to force the image of that mess out of his head. Why was he so affected by this? He had seen death and carnage before many times, and much worse than this, but as a policeman it was never so personal. This happened here, to him, at Ulumbarra, his special retreat and sanctuary away from the horrors of his job and he had to fight not just for his life but for hers too, and that is what crippled him.

He thought about how panicked he felt when she left him, when they were threatening to hurt her and when they had pretended to shoot him; he had frozen, unable to think clearly and was terrified. His memory of the terror he felt at the hands of Percy mortified him. He was better than that. By the time he had discovered her twisted body he had already started to fall apart but seeing her crumpled and lifeless on the ground had broken him and rendered him useless. He shut his eyes and let the shame wash over him. _For Christ's sake_, he thought, _I didn't even check for a pulse._

He forced himself to stop thinking about what had just happened and he slowly stood up, grimacing from the pain and stiffness. He had a job to do and needed to get going. He looked at his watch: he had about an hour, plenty of time. He was still shaky and trembling so he gathered a glass and the whiskey and took it back to the table. He poured himself a large slug to steady his nerves, feeling better when his throat burned from the drink. He had tried not to think about it but his mind jumped from image to image and he started to sweat. He saw Phryne's twisted body on the ground again and his heart beat a little faster. He relived the panic that he felt when he discovered she had left him to run to the house, and instead of fear and shock he felt anger. He was angry with her for not trusting him, not waiting for him to discuss what to do, like partners would do, like lovers would do. He was angry with her for making him feel this way but mostly he angry with himself: for dissolving into a teary mess, for loving her and for giving himself so completely to her, for bringing her here to his now defiled sanctuary and allowing himself to be dragged once again into her mess. He didn't fight the anger; it was better than how he was feeling before and he let it take over him.

He looked towards the door, steeling himself for this unpleasant job. As angry as he was with her, he knew he had to do it. He could feel his heart beating strongly in his chest and he wiped the sweat from his brow with his arm, feeling the sting of the salt in his scratches. He looked at his feet and took a deep breath. I am fine, he told himself. I can do this and have done this many times, this is just another of these times. He sat back down to steady himself and poured himself another whiskey, throwing it back and gulping it down, exhaling sharply from the burn of it and enjoying the heat that spread through his body. That's better, he thought, he was starting to feel numb. _Feel numb._ He briefly pondered the absurdity of that expression to distract him from what he had to do. He was not shaking so much anymore and he felt stronger, more in control but still angry.

He stood again and went to find a lantern and matches. He located the spare key and unlocked the door with painful and swollen fingers. When it was opened, he paused and stared into the darkness. He was starting to tremble again but he took a deep breath and walked back into hell.


	13. Chapter 13

Phryne arrived back at the house with two uniformed policemen. They walked into the lounge room to see Jack slowly sit up on the couch. She inhaled sharply when she saw him; his face seemed worse than before, it was puffier and his bruises had started to darken. One of his eyes had swollen shut.

The three of them stood, ashen faced, just inside the door to the lounge room and watched as Jack gingerly rose to his feet. Phryne went to help him but he shot her a look that stopped her dead in her tracks. She stayed where she was with her sore hands clasped together and looked awkwardly at the floor.

The more senior of the two policemen pushed past her to get to him. "Good god, Jack!" he said, too shocked to remember to address him formally in front of Phryne and the other policeman. He laid his hand on his arm and looked closely at him. "Do you need a doctor?"

"Senior Sergeant McKenna, I would say it was good to see you again, but given the circumstances … No, I am sore but am quite sure nothing is broken."

McKenna nodded. He was shocked to see his old friend like this but remembered he was here on police business. He straightened and turned to introduce his constable. "Detective Inspector Robinson, this is Constable Oliver, he will be taking notes. I understand from Miss Fisher that you had intruders on the property and there was a confrontation and that they are now deceased."

Jack straightened himself as much as possible and nodded a greeting at the younger officer. He looked back at McKenna. He had known Andrew McKenna for most of his life. He was the son of the town's Presbyterian minister and their mothers were close friends. They had been friendly as young children but they were never really close and had very little in common. McKenna didn't share Jack's adventurous spirit and as a teenager was pious and bookish, his reading mostly limited to religious texts given to him by his father. As adults, their shared interests dwindled and their conversations were limited to marriage and the war-time experiences they were willing to talk about. Jack didn't share McKenna's religious beliefs and felt the full force of his judgement when he told him of his separation from Rosie. He expected that same judgement now, but this was the least of his worries. McKenna was a good policeman and would play this by the book. He wouldn't let their shared history get in the way of the truth.

Jack took a deep breath and sat down, extending an arm to invite them to take a seat on the couch closest to them. They sat and looked at him expectantly. The constable took his notebook out and found a fresh page, his pencil poised. Phryne was still standing and watched Jack's swollen features steel into the senior policeman's face that he wore on the job.

"So, what has Miss Fisher told you already?" he asked McKenna.

"Not much," McKenna replied, his eyes darting to Phryne. "Miss Fisher, was um, quite distraught when she came in and said that two armed men had entered the property and attacked you and that they were both dead and that you were alive but were injured. When I heard it was you, we came straight over so we don't have any details.

Phryne did what was expected of her and offered them cups of tea, raising her eyes slightly to look at Jack. He didn't even glance at her; it was like she wasn't there. She retreated to the kitchen and listened while Jack told them about Roberts and how she was hired as a private detective to investigate his drug importation business. She became embroiled in the gang, he told them, and in the process, put herself and her household in danger as they sought revenge for the arrest of Roberts. He was called in to assist when she started receiving death threats and had no choice but to bring her here as she refused to go to a safe house and was endangering herself and her staff.

Phryne bristled at Jack's words as she waited for the jug to boil. She knew he was relaying the story and removing all traces of personal involvement with her but the contempt for her and her actions that she heard in his voice felt real. She was glad she wasn't in the room to witness their expressions of disbelief that a woman would be so stupid to do something like that, even if she did deeply regret the consequences of her involvement. She was used to this judgement of her, especially from men, but she was growing tired of constantly having to justify her chosen career. They didn't know her, her history or what she was capable of. She gathered the tray and cups quietly so she could continue to listen to what they were saying.

McKenna looked at Jack as he paused in his recounting of the events of the evening. He had been disturbed by Phryne's appearance at the police station with news of the killings at Ulumbarra and spent the drive to the property ruminating on the reason that the two of them were here alone. He turned to the junior police officer, "Oliver, I need you to fetch my notebook from the car."

Oliver glanced at his notebook and looked momentarily confused but stood quickly. "Yes sir."

When the door closed behind him, McKenna turned to Jack and spoke to him in a quiet voice. "She agreed to accompany you here?" he asked, genuinely confused. "What's going on, Jack? You are a senior police officer and this is a highly irregular arrangement for someone needing protection. Is there something going on with you and this …?"

"It was expedient, Andy, nothing more," Jack said, cutting him off before he could ask about the nature of his relationship with her and force him to lie.

Phryne had moved closer to the door of the kitchen to listen. She held her breath.

"I had been involved in a case that indicted prominent people," Jack continued, "and was receiving my own threatening letters."

"The Sanderson case?"

Jack paused, news travelled fast. "Yes, I was told to get out of town for a while, and as unconventional as it was, bringing her here was an opportunity to kill two birds with one …" Jack trailed off, fighting the images of his tussle with Percy, "... stone, so to speak. I know this seems inappropriate, but it is well known that Miss Fisher and I had worked on a few cases together, so Inspector Reynolds from Williamstown requested my help in convincing her to go to a safe house. As I have been acquainted professionally with Miss Fisher for a while, I agreed. She refused outright so as a last-ditch measure I suggested that she accompany me here. I can assure you, Andy, neither Miss Fisher nor I were keen on the proposal, but it was the only solution to our standoff. She only agreed because it was, in her eyes, better than going to a safe house for an indeterminate length of time."

"But, bringing her here? Just the two of you?" McKenna lowered his voice further, "I know of this woman. My wife has mentioned her in relation to you. She's in all the papers. What of your reputation?"

Jack felt a surge of anger. "My reputation has nothing to do with this!" he snapped. "I was doing my job as a police officer."

McKenna was taken aback. He sat up straight as Oliver came back in the house to tell them that the ambulance had arrived to transport the bodies to the morgue.

McKenna fixed Jack with a look that told him he didn't believe him and turned to talk to Oliver. "Tell them to wait outside for us, Oliver. We won't be too long here." He continued to look at Jack but said nothing. He had always liked Jack. As a boy, he was funny and cheeky and was a welcome relief from his staid and tightly controlled existence at home. He had looked up to him and spent much of his holidays following him up mountains and down dusty tracks on his bike. He had even followed Jack into the police force and had watched his progression to Detective Inspector with wistful pride and a little envy. Now look at him, he thought, he had unravelled after the separation from Rosie and must have fallen prey to the charms of this disreputable woman.

Phryne came out with the tea on a tray and set it on the table between them, immediately sensing the tension between them. No-one thanked her for the tea or acknowledged her in any way; she could have been the hired help. She straightened and moved to sit by herself on the third couch, still smarting from the overheard conversation about her reputation. She observed the old friends as they sat facing each other. Both were staring awkwardly at the floor.

Oliver came back in the room and broke the awkward silence. "I'm sorry sir, I couldn't find your notebook."

"Not to worry, Oliver, you have yours," McKenna said tersely, still stinging from Jack's rebuke. He sighed and looked back to Jack. They needed to move on. "What time did they arrive at the property?"

Jack looked back at him. "It was early evening, I am unsure of the time. Probably around five o'clock."

"Where were you when you first saw them?"

"I was accompanying Miss Fisher on her constitutional. I heard the car on the drive and told Miss Fisher to stay down while I checked to make sure it was them." Jack stopped, his breathing had quickened and he had started to sweat again. Phryne wondered if the senior policeman, who seemed to know Jack well could see that he was struggling emotionally.

"Then what happened?"

Jack sat still, staring at the ground.

"Inspector?"

Jack looked at his hands in his lap. "I, erm, went back to where I had told Miss Fisher to stay, but she had disobeyed my order and run back to the house. I assumed she had done this to get a weapon."

Both policemen scowled and turned to look at her. Suddenly she was visible again. She braced herself for their judgement: they would see her as a selfish and uncontrollable woman who endangered everyone she encountered. Despite thinking that she probably needed to appear to be as demure as possible, she sat up a bit straighter and narrowed her eyes at them.

"I see." McKenna said, his voice dripping with contempt at this questionable woman who had dragged his old friend into this mess. He looked at Jack briefly and then turned back to address Phryne and spoke slowly to her, as if she were a simpleton.

"Is this the case, Miss Fisher? And what weapon were you going to fetch?"

Phryne nodded. "The shotgun."

"You have a shotgun?"

Jack interrupted. "Miss Fisher went to get the shotgun we have here from under the house. I had shot rabbits for dinner yesterday, so she knew where we kept it."

McKenna turned back to Phryne. "And what were you proposing to do with the shotgun, Miss Fisher?"

"I was proposing to defend the Inspector and myself."

"And how were you going to defend yourselves, Miss Fisher?"

Phryne hesitated and resisted the urge to look over at Jack.

"In any way I could," she answered, jutting her chin out just a touch. "Our lives were at stake."

"You have used a shotgun before then, have you?"

"I have shot at clay pigeons, yes."

"Many times?"

"Once." Her gaze was level and cool.

"Was the gun loaded?"

"No, it was empty from the rabbit hunt. I found ammunition and loaded two cartridges."

"How did you get back to the house without being seen, Miss Fisher?"

"I ran through the bushes to the creek, and followed it up to the gate to the bottom of the paddock. I then crawled through the long grass of the paddock to get to the room under the house."

"You seem very familiar with the layout of the property, Miss Fisher."

"I don't see what relevance that has to this incident, Sergeant McKenna," she said icily.

"_Senior_ Sergeant McKenna, Miss Fisher, and …"

"Miss Fisher is a keen walker and has explored the property over the last couple of days." Jack butted in, interrupting the terse exchange.

"On your own, Miss Fisher?"

"The Inspector joined me on my evening constitutionals," she answered evasively. "He insisted that he accompany me on my walks at dusk or after dark."

He turned his gaze back to Jack. "I see. And then what happened, Inspector?"

Jack took a deep breath and told them about how he had waited until he thought she would be back at the house and then walked out to distract them from entering the house to search for her.

"Did you know the decedents?" McKenna asked.

"No, I did not. They referred to each other as Percy and Frankie."

"Did you know them, Miss Fisher?"

Phryne told him of their relationship to Roberts.

McKenna turned back to Jack. "And then what happened?"

Jack relayed what had happened in detail, but didn't speak of their taunts or how he reacted to them. Phryne was listening attentively, her heart hammering in her chest. She felt herself nod throughout Jack's account of the events; his story fitted with what she had heard when she was under the house. Jack told them of hearing Phryne call out and the guns firing almost simultaneously. He paused. Phryne's eyes widened and she leant forward expectantly. On her way back to the homestead she had convinced herself that Jack was too distraught to relive the awful events of the evening but would have told her if she had killed Frankie, rather than have her find out during a police interview. Nevertheless, she held her breath and waited anxiously for him to continue.

"Who shot first?" O'Brien asked Jack.

"The shotgun went off first."

McKenna and Oliver turned to Phryne. "Did you shoot the deceased, Miss Fisher?" McKenna asked.

Phryne paused and then opened her mouth to talk but Jack cut her off.

"I can only assume Miss Fisher had climbed up the wall with the shotgun but slipped when Frankie turned his gun on her and the shotgun gun went off, missing him. She fell backwards, probably propelled by the recoil of the shotgun and hit her head. She lost consciousness for a few minutes and has no recollection of the events." Jack paused, "Miss Fisher did not shoot Frankie."

The two police turned to look her. She nodded. "I remember climbing the wall, which was slippery, and firing the gun when Frankie turned his gun on me and then nothing until the Inspector was shaking me and calling my name." Phryne reached up to touch the lump on her head and felt the small clods of mud that were still in her hair. "I have a nasty bump on my head so I assume I hit it on a rock or the base of the water tank."

All three of them then turned their gaze back to Jack. McKenna continued, "Keep going, Inspector."

"At this stage Percy and I were wrestling for his gun. The shotgun and pistol startled us and Percy was distracted so I managed to hit him in the head with a stone. He was dazed but wouldn't let go of his gun so I hit him again. I grabbed the gun and saw Frankie coming towards me with a revolver. I fired and he fell backwards. I was worried that Miss Fisher had been shot so I quickly checked on Frankie before going to her. He was lying there with a head wound and there was a lot of blood, so I assumed I had shot him in the head and he was dead. I then went to check on Miss Fisher. She was lying face down and … and I …" Jack faltered, he was starting to feel sweaty and shaky and put his head in his hands. Phryne moved slightly on her seat wanting to go to him. She fought back tears at the thought of him having to fight for his life and then worry about hers. It must have been harrowing for him.

"Are you alright Inspector?" McKenna asked.

"You'll have to excuse me for a moment, McKenna, I have a terrible headache."

"Certainly. Take your time, Inspector."

Jack took a few deep breaths and managed to get back in control. He raised his head slowly and looked at McKenna and continued. "Miss Fisher was unconscious and I was trying to determine her injuries when I heard a noise above the retaining wall. I went to the wall with the shotgun to have a look and saw Frankie crawling towards us. The bullet must have just grazed his face. He saw me and raised his gun at me and I fired."

McKenna sat upright. "You didn't take his gun when you went to see if he was dead?" he asked incredulously. He was shocked at this admission and let down the formal policeman's façade. "Good god man! Why on earth not?"

Jack drew in a deep breath. He was quiet for a little while and looked troubled. "Because I was beaten and shot at and I was so groggy I could barely walk, let alone think straight. I shot him in the head. There was a lot of blood and I thought he was dead. I thought Miss Fisher had been shot too so I went to her. I know it was a grave error that could have cost us our lives and believe me, I am ashamed that I made such a terrible mistake." He hung his head and continued, "I am finding this more painful than my injuries."

Phryne was shocked by Jack's admission. She looked at the policemen watching him. McKenna eyed him with pity and the young constable looked uneasy and squirmed on the lounge. She looked back at Jack who was staring at the floor and working his jaw. This could explain why he had acted so strangely towards her after his shock had subsided. He must be feeling deeply embarrassed about this, especially admitting to it in front of his old friend and a junior policeman. She knew he prided himself on his police skills; she had no doubt he had obtained the senior rank of Inspector at a young age due to his superior skills and impeccable record. She looked at him sitting there with his elbows on his knees and his head hung low and her heart ached for him, but she was troubled by his admission: she found it hard to believe he would neglect to take Frankie's gun.

Jack raised his head and continued "I knew he would be dead then. No-one would survive a shotgun blast at close range. I went back to Miss Fisher, who regained consciousness soon after."

McKenna looked at his friend and frowned in confusion. This seemed like odd behaviour from a respected and experienced policeman and could only assume that his suspicions that he and this woman were romantically involved were correct. His own experience as a policeman dealing with domestic issues had shown him that love was one of the main triggers of unpredictable and sometimes unconscionable behaviour.

"What did you do with Percy's gun after you shot Frankie?" he asked Jack.

Jack frowned and looked pensive for a few moments, like he was trying to remember what happened. "I must have taken it with me when I went to check on Miss Fisher."

"Then why not shoot Frankie with it rather than the shotgun?"

Jack shrugged. "I must have put it down when I went to check Miss Fisher's … er, pulse. It was quite dark by this time. The shotgun was visible and close by and I grabbed it. I only had a few seconds to make a decision."

McKenna nodded slowly, seemingly satisfied with Jack's response. He turned to Phryne. "I assume you are not in need of a doctor either, Miss Fisher?"

Phryne shook her head slowly. "I am sore but fine, thank you."

"Well then," McKenna said, slapping his thighs, "Grab the camera from the car, Oliver, we better go and have a look at these bodies. I will type up my report for the coroner over the next few days and will be in touch if I have any more questions. I assume you both will be leaving here shortly?"

Jack looked at Phryne and then spoke to McKenna. "Er, yes. We will leave here tomorrow."

All four of them stood up. McKenna offered his hand to his friend, which Jack took gingerly. Phryne watched then shake, knowing that the gesture would cause Jack pain. She looked at his hand and frowned. It was clean. It was still swollen and bruised but all blood and mud had been washed off, unlike his bloody and muddy face, which was just like it was when she drove off. She watched as Jack walked them to the door, awkwardly making small talk as McKenna politely asked after his family. He turned slightly and she saw the other hand. No blood or mud on that one either. Why wash your hands but not your face? She took a step to accompany them outside but Jack turned and stared icily at her.

"Stay inside, Miss Fisher," he said gruffly, still within earshot of the policemen. "This is no place for you."

Phryne nodded and went to sit back on the couch. She let out a sigh and looked at the untouched cups of tea on the table. She tried to make sense of what she had learnt this evening. She was relieved to learn that she hadn't killed Frankie but she felt uneasy about Jack's version of the events. It was plausible that he neglected to collect Frankie's gun after shooting him, he was in a very bad way when she regained consciousness, but it didn't feel right to her.

She reached up to rub her throbbing head and again felt the mud through her hair. They would be busy for a while so she may as well bathe. She walked slowly to the bathroom, groaning as she realised she would have to light the chip heater and wait a while until she could get hot water. She longed for her own house, where she could sink into her hot, perfumed tub, prepared by Dot, and then tumble into her soft bed.

After lighting the water heater, she returned to the lounge room for a much-needed whiskey and frowned when she saw how little was left. Jack must have knocked back quite a bit after she had left, before lying back down on the couch.

When her bath was ready, she stepped slowly into the tub and distracted herself from the sting of her wounds by thinking about Jack's angry outburst before she drove off to inform the police. She understood his anger, he had suffered so much in the last few hours and would be feeling physically and emotionally violated, but he seemed to go from stupor to anger with nothing in between. She recalled her conversation with Jack as they lay together looking at the stars_. I decided that I didn't want to be angry and sad any more …_ That was how he coped after the war and she suspected that was how he was coping now: he used anger as a way of repressing other more painful emotions. Whatever he was going through, she would be there to help him. She sighed and put her head under the water to wash out the mud.

After half an hour or so in the tub, Phryne heard car doors slam and engines start up. Thank goodness! They were leaving and taking the bodies with them. She got out of the now muddy bath and dried herself as best she could and put on her pyjamas and robe, wincing at the pain in her shoulder. She went to the door and opened it in time to see three sets of headlights at the top of the drive heading back into town. She was enormously relieved. Now she could get Jack into a bath and tend to his wounds and to put him to bed. She was keen to comfort him and snuggle up next to him and talk, if he was up to it, to see how he was faring emotionally. In truth, she needed that too.

She stood by the door waiting for him, expecting to hear the crunch of his shoes on the stones as he walked over the drive to her. A minute ticked by. Where was he? Surely he wouldn't have left to go back to the station without telling her. After another minute she called out to him.

"Jack? Jack, are you there?"

There was no answer. Frowning and worried, she sat on the threshold to wait for him. She shivered in the cool autumn air.

Jack looked at Phryne's silhouette as she sat on the doorstep. He was standing on the other side of the drive, just beyond the weak light that spilled from the open door, so he knew she wouldn't be able to see him. He had stood there in the darkness after the quiet had finally returned and heard her call out to him. He knew he should to go to her, to have that conversation that he had been having with her in his head all night.

_Do you know what it's like loving you? Have you any idea of what I have just done for you? I can't do this anymore ..._

No, he just couldn't go to her. Not now, anyway. He turned and walked a few steps away from the house and lowered himself with a quiet groan onto the log at the curve in the drive. He looked back at her sitting there. Her hair looked different: she must have bathed, coming to the door when she heard the cars and ambulance drive off to wait for him to return. She was hugging her knees and looked vulnerable and he realised that he should be feeling something other than anger, looking at her like this, but anger was all he was capable of. He no longer felt shock and revulsion. Gone were the humiliation and shame at how he had crumbled. Also gone was the deep remorse that he felt when he lied to his friend and fellow police officer. But most importantly, he didn't fear losing her anymore, which he had felt constantly since falling in love with her. He clung onto his anger to feel more in control, but other than that he felt glorious nothing, just as he did after the war, when he managed to suppress all other feelings that were threatening to crush him.

He watched Phryne rub her hands up and down her crossed arms. She was cold. She stood and turned to go inside but hesitated, turning back to take one last hopeful look into the darkness. He held his breath. She turned again and walked into the house, shutting the door gently behind her without a backward glance. Jack let out his breath. He was finally alone.


	14. Chapter 14

Phryne sat up, confused by the darkness. She had woken up on the couch and had no idea if it was morning or evening. She had waited for him, fighting back tears and drinking the last of the whiskey to deaden the sadness she felt and to warm up after the chill of sitting outside. She felt something slip from her shoulders and she reached out to touch it. A blanket; he must have covered her with it when he came in, not wanting to wake her. She felt a surge of hopefulness and stood up and walked to their bedroom. The bed was empty. She tiptoed to his room and pushed open the door, thankful that it didn't creak. She could hear him breathing, slowly and deeply and she snuck in to look at him. The curtains were not drawn and there was enough light from the moon to see that he was curled up in bed facing away from the door. She was relieved he was back in the house but her heart sank at the thought of him not wanting to sleep in their bed, as she liked to think of it.

She drew her robe tightly around her to try and stop the tremble that had started when she saw him and moved around the bed so she could look at his face. She wasn't cold but felt ill at the thought that he had rejected her at a time when they needed each other the most. She picked up his watch on the bedside table and brought it close to her face to read the luminous hands. It was just after four in the morning. She leant back against the wall to ponder the mess they were in. Their kiss under the mistletoe just hours ago was the kiss of two people in love and now this man that she stared at in the dim monochrome light seemed like a stranger to her. His words came back to her: _I shut everyone out and became a recluse for a while._ Is that what he was doing? Withdrawing from her and the rest of the world to cope with the war he fought here?

Phryne puffed out a breath and stood upright. She was crying again and used the back of her hands to wipe at her tears. She had tried not to cry all evening, only allowing a tear or two to slide down her face as she sat on the doorstep looking out into the darkness, feeling his gaze on her. She looked at his face and thought about how quickly they had drifted apart. She gently placed the watch back on the bedside table and moved quietly out of his room.

Phryne woke later that morning to sun streaming through her bedroom window. She didn't stretch, that felt too indulgent, so she lay there motionless, staring at the ceiling. Her first thoughts were of Jack fighting for his life, killing Percy and Frankie. Self-defence or not, he had killed them. _Kill or be killed_.

She sat up and groaned with the stiffness in her shoulder and the dull ache in her head and reached up to gently massage her lump. She slowly put on her robe as she walked into the lounge room and saw that Jack was already up, sitting on the verandah and staring off into the distance. She slowly walked towards him, her heart beating strongly.

"Jack?"

He didn't respond but she saw that his breathing had quickened and he shut his eyes. Her heart sank. Was he still angry?

She moved closer but stopped just inside the door to the verandah, not wanting to enter his territory.

"Jack? Are you all right? I was worried about you last night when you didn't come back inside."

Jack didn't look at her but huffed out a breath. "Am I all right? No, I am not all right. Are you all right after what happened last night?" he asked angrily.

He turned to look at her then. He had washed his face and although his features were still very swollen he had managed to set them into a scowl.

"Oh Jack!" she said softly, still affected by seeing him like that. She tried to ignore the angry look he had given her and walked onto the verandah and sat down next to him on the lounge. He wouldn't look at her. She reached out to touch him but thought better of it and let her hand drop to her lap. She watched as his breathing quickened and he shut his eyes. He looked uneasy. He opened them again and turned away from her. They sat there for a short while, neither of them knowing how to talk to each other anymore.

Jack eventually spoke. His voice was level and cold. "Why did you do it?"

Phryne blinked and shook her head. "Do what?"

He turned to look at her then. It was like his face was set in stone. "Why did you run back to the house when I told you to stay? Why did you do it? Why did you leave me?"

Phryne felt flustered. "I … I …," she stammered.

He raised his voice at her. "Why do you always do what you want to do without any regard for anyone else?"

Phryne physically recoiled from his barrage. She looked at him and frowned. "Jack, I want to talk about what happened, we _need_ to talk about what happened. You are obviously very angry but I will not talk to you when you are yelling at me like this."

Phryne stood up and moved back into the house to make a pot of tea in the hope that he would calm down a little so they could talk properly. She reached the kitchen just as she realised that he had followed her into the house. She turned quickly to face him, forcing him to pull up abruptly so he wouldn't walk into her.

"Don't you walk away from me!" he hissed. His face was inches from hers now. "I need to know. Why did you run?"

Phryne took a step backwards. "Jack, I will not talk to you when you are like this! I will not have you yell at me."

He straightened and frowned at her. "Fine," he said coldly. He took a deep breath. "I will not yell at you. Why did you run and not wait for me?"

She knew this was a sore point for him and a discussion that they had to have but his sudden attack on her made her feel cornered and defensive. "Why are you so angry with me? This is the morning after a terrible assault on both of us and this is the first time we have really spoken to each other and these are your first words to me? You haven't even asked how I am. We survived, Jack. Yes we were both hurt but we are alive. We separated but worked as a team anyway. Why are you attacking me?"

"Because if you had trusted me enough to wait for me to get back we could have done things differently. We may have survived without having two people die out there." Jack raised his arm to point outside. Phryne noticed that his hand was trembling.

Phryne huffed out a breath in frustration and tried to talk calmly. "This is not about not trusting you, Jack, and it is ridiculous to think about what might have happened. What if I didn't run? Maybe we would both be dead. We may not have made it to the house in time or they could have seen us in the field and shot us on sight. Or shot you and taken me. This could have played out in so many ways and quite frankly, I don't know why you are focused on this now. I don't understand your anger towards me."

Jack looked at her and narrowed his eyes. "This would never have happened if you had listened to me in the first place! You ignored my advice, as usual and put both of us in an incredibly dangerous position. I need to know why you didn't wait for me, Phryne. Everything hinges on this."

Phryne frowned at him. "What do you mean by that?" Her heart was racing; she couldn't believe what was happening. "Are you saying your decision about wanting to be with me depends on my answer?"

Jack paused. He could see she was scared that he would reject her but he needed her to understand how her actions affected him.

"Yes."

Phryne felt like she had been winded and struggled to take a deep breath. He was walking away from her again. How could he do this to her? How could he love her so much one minute and then turn on her the next? She felt panicky and sick to the stomach. She couldn't lose him, she had only just resigned herself to loving him. They were on the cusp of a beautiful relationship, surely he would think that was worth salvaging. She tried to calm herself before she spoke.

"Jack, please, don't make this decision when you are feeling like this. We have both had a terrible shock. Can we calm down and talk more about it when we are not feeling so fraught? The time here that we had together before this ... this …" she held out her arm, palm up, struggling to find the right words to describe what they had been through, "this terrible attack was so special." She took a small step towards him and said softly, "I can't remember being so happy with anyone. Does our time here as lovers mean nothing to you? Would you really give me up so easily?"

"So easily? Do you think this has been easy for me? Do you think I haven't thought constantly about this since the attack? I have spent the last couple of years worrying about you, Phryne. I could barely focus on my work because of you, yet you have no consideration of how your reckless actions affect those around you. How did you think I felt when I thought you had died in that motor car, or not knowing if they had killed you on that ship, not hearing from you when you were gallivanting around with Roberts and his men, thinking you were dead when I saw you lying twisted on the ground. I thought you were dead, Phryne, and it crippled me. I loved you so much I didn't know who I was anymore. I can't live like that."

Phryne felt like she had just been struck. "_Loved_, Jack? You can stop loving me at the snap of your fingers?"

"I have to stop loving you. Do you have any idea what it's like, constantly worrying that you will do something stupid and get hurt, or die? Do you have any idea what it's like loving you?"

Phryne was shocked and saddened by this but also a little angry at being called stupid. She narrowed her eyes at him and put her hands on her hips. "I suspect it's a lot like loving a policeman, Jack," she said coolly. "Would you consider me and my feelings before you made a decision to act?"

"It's my job Phryne. That's what I do."

"And this is what I do, Jack!" She was getting frustrated by their circular argument. "Why can't you, of all people, accept that? You know I am good at this. You know I can defend myself and others, you know that I have helped you get results, yet you want me to stop doing this, what I love doing, because of how it makes _you_ feel."

Jack straightened and nodded slowly. "Yes, this is about how you make me feel, I admit that. I feel disappointed that you don't trust me. I feel frustrated that you think you always know best. I feel terrified at the thought of losing you and I feel weak because I love you so much. I don't want to feel this way anymore."

Phryne narrowed her eyes at the hypocrisy of his words. "Jack, you are doing exactly what you are accusing me of doing by disregarding how I feel. You don't understand, I ran because I feel compelled to act when someone I love is in trouble. I can't sit by idly and do nothing. I have had a lifetime of feeling helpless and I can't and won't do it anymore. You are making this all about you when it should be about us!"

Jack sighed angrily and raised his voice at her. "Us? You have already told me you are who you are and would never change. It's never about anyone but you!"

Phryne was furious now and yelled back at him. "That's not true and you know it! The reason I ran is because of you! Not because I thought you wouldn't know what to do or that I knew best. I trusted your instincts that something was wrong and then the fear of losing you was so great I had to run. _You_," she said, stabbing a finger in the air at him, "the man I have fallen in love with against all better judgement. I couldn't bear the thought of you getting hurt so I had to do something. We were isolated, without a gun and we had no time. I did what I did because of you, not to spite you, why can't you see that?"

"So it never occurred to you that I might know what to do in these situations? That we could work it out together?"

Phryne stared at him. Was he even listening to what she was saying? He didn't even flinch when she said she was in love with him.

"Ah, so this is what this is really about," she said tersely, wanting to goad him now, "you think you know best and don't like to be disobeyed."

Jack let out an angry grunt. "No, it's not about that, Phryne! It's about you disregarding all advice and putting yourself at risk again and again. It wouldn't hurt you to do as I suggest for once, I have been doing this for a long time. Believe it or not, I am good at what I do."

"Really?" she said snidely with her hands on her hips, "Then why didn't you check that Frankie was dead after you shot him?"

She knew it was a low blow and watched as Jack stopped and clenched his jaw. His hands were balled into fists. They stared at each other for a while, breathing heavily, their eyes wide and jaws clenched in anger.

"You have no idea of what I have done for you," he whispered between his clenched teeth, shaking his head slowly. Phryne looked confused and opened her mouth to ask him what he meant but Jack cut her off. His voice was strangely calm.

"Last night I asked McKenna to call Collins. He will be here about lunchtime to take you home." And with that he turned and walked away from her. Phryne stared open mouthed at him. She couldn't believe it, their relationship had unravelled in just a few minutes.

He walked quickly to the verandah and stooped down to move under the railing and jump to the ground. Phryne followed him out and watched as he marched briskly through the grass towards the creek. She was crying now and desperately tried to think of something to say to him to stop him leaving, even yelling at each other was better than watching him walk away from her. She couldn't think of anything so she stayed there, rooted to the spot and watched as he disappeared into the trees.

* * *

Phryne sat on the window seat in her parlour, watching her neighbours though her gauze curtains going about their business. It had been two days since Dot had passed on the letter from Jack that was delivered by Hugh and three days since she had left Ulumbarra. Her sadness and shock from being evicted from the property was exacerbated by his curt letter that stated in no uncertain terms that he needed to be alone and that she was not to contact him. He had left Ulumbarra the same day as her and had sought time off to recover from his injuries, Hugh told her, when she cornered him in the kitchen as he shared a cocoa with Dot on his way home from work. Hugh had looked up at her sad face and despite knowing that he shouldn't be talking about the Inspector, he let her know with his customary self-conscious nod that the Inspector had said that he should be back at work in a fortnight.

The three days at home had been difficult, to say the least. Although she was relieved at Hugh's news that the last of Roberts' gang had been caught, and the rat on the force had been dragged from the Yarra, she was despondent and crippled with grief and remorse. Their fight had been disastrous and she chided herself for not properly explaining her motivations for running. She wanted to talk to him to tell him that he was right: she should never have taken the Roberts' case, but she had honoured his request for solitude.

She wondered what he was going through, all alone in his small house in South Melbourne. She suspected he was doing what he did after the war: pushing everyone away so he could wallow in whatever it was he was feeling, if he was feeling anything at all. When she wasn't wondering about Jack, she thought of Frankie. She spent many an hour going over the terrible events to try and make sense of it. She had all but convinced herself that she had killed Frankie and that Jack had lied to protect her. She hung her head in shame at her last words to him.

She looked out the window again and saw Mac striding purposefully up her path. Thank goodness she was here! Phryne had rung her when she returned home, only to learn she was at the beginning of a three-day stint of night shifts. After a cursory chat about the progress of her case, Mac had moaned about spending all night having to coax obstinate babies out of the warmth of the womb. Phryne knew Mac hated working night shifts and would be exhausted, so she didn't tell her what had happened, but asked her to come over on her first day off.

Mac opened the parlour door and stiffened when she saw her. "Phryne! What on earth happened to you?" She rushed over to her good friend. "Why is your face covered in scratches?" She put both her hands on either side of Phryne's head to gently turn her towards the light to look at her and felt the lingering bump on the side of her head. A tear was running down her usually stoic friend's cheek. Mac sat down and gathered Phryne into a hug, which caused her to cry out in pain. Mac released her immediately, her eyes wide.

"Phryne, are you all right? What happened? Where does it hurt?" Mac reached for her hand but Phryne pulled it back protectively.

"I'm afraid they're damaged too," she said, managing a small smile.

Mac got up and helped herself and Phryne to a whiskey. She brought them over and handed a glass to her friend, eyeing her carefully. "As your physician, I want to know all about your injuries but as your friend, Phryne, I want to know how you are."

"The injuries are manageable, Mac, but I am not doing too well."

Mac placed her hand gently on Phryne's knee. When Phryne didn't recoil from her touch, she gave it a bit of a shake. "What happened?"

Phryne wiped her eyes with her hankie and sighed. Mac knew that Phryne had to disappear for a while but she, like the others, was not told of her destination.

"I was hiding out with Jack at his family's home near Daylesford." She looked up to see Mac's eyebrows shoot up inquisitively.

Mac leaned forward a little. "And?" she drew out slowly.

Phryne took a deep breath and a sip of the whiskey. She looked at Mac. "We became lovers."

Mac's eyebrows shot up even further and she sat up a little straighter but said nothing; she suspected that now was not the time for one of her usual sardonic comments. She gave Phryne's knee a reassuring squeeze and waited for her to continue.

"It was wonderful Mac, we were alone in this beautiful place together and becoming lovers seemed the most natural thing. We were so happy together. I really didn't think it was possible to feel that way with someone." Phryne faltered, took in a deep breath and sat staring out the window for a short while. "And then it all went so horribly wrong."

Phryne told Mac everything, giving her a detailed account of the evening, leaving out nothing and only pausing every now and then to breathe deeply and wipe her eyes. Mac interrupted once to tsk and gently berate her for not seeing a doctor after waking with obvious concussion but then fell silent, letting Phryne continue. She described Jack's strange behaviour and how he had struggled after the war and spoke of her suspicions that she may have killed Frankie, ending with their fight and how she had packed up her things and left the property without seeing him again after he walked off.

Phryne dissolved into tears at the end of her story and Mac reached out to hug her. Phryne allowed herself to be pulled into Mac's arms and sobbed against her shoulder. "Phryne, I am sure when everything settles down that you and Jack will talk properly about this."

"It's not just the thought of losing Jack that is eating away at me, I think I took a life, Mac, I killed someone."

Mac gently pushed her away so she could look at her. "You don't know that, Phryne, so it's not worth talking about it."

"But I need to Mac, I am sure of it. Jack's story just doesn't add up and I can't talk to him about it."

Mac sighed. "This is going to sound perverse, Phryne, especially coming from me, but if you did shoot him, you did the right thing: you were protecting your life and Jack's. He would have killed you both and left you there to rot. Under the circumstances, you had to do it. You were forced into this terrible situation and it was the only thing you could have done to survive."

Phryne sniffed and slowly nodded. "I know, Mac, I know that would have happened, but it doesn't stop me feeling terrible."

"Phryne, listen to me. It's all right to feel terrible. I would be worried about you if you didn't feel terrible right now, but don't let this change who you are."

"Isn't it a bit late for that?" Phryne asked as she wiped the tears from her face.

"No, it's not too late, Phryne. You can still be who you are, you can still feel happy. This won't stop you loving, and it won't stop others loving you if you don't let it take over your life. You will recover from this. You will be happy again, it will just take some time."

"And Jack?" she asked quietly. "I don't know why he is acting this way. After he recovered from the shock of the fight and thinking that I was dead he was so cold and angry towards me. He wrote me a letter, Mac. He doesn't want to see me because I trigger the bad memories for him. I make him feel terrible and he has shut me out of his life … again."

Mac looked at her friend affectionately. "Well, that sounds familiar. Withdrawing is obviously his way of coping, Phryne, but this does sound more extreme than last time." She hesitated, "It's not my area of expertise, but from what you have told me about our dear Inspector, I'd say the violent attack could well have triggered a bout of recurring shell shock. He has recovered from this before, Phryne, if it was indeed shell shock that he was suffering from after the war, so he will recover from this again. Some years ago now, when I was a member of the Sydney Women's Club, I attended a lecture on treating shell shock," Mac paused and rolled her eyes, "which took me bloody forever to get to. Anyway, the speaker was espousing the virtues of Jungian psychoanalysis in treating returned soldiers with shell shock. She said that for some soldiers, it felt like the war left the field and moved into their mind. I'll never forget that. You know, shell shock used to be referred to as neura …"

"Mac," Phryne said gently.

Mac stopped and looked at Phryne with a quizzical look. "What?" she said, pretending to look shocked and taking a swig of her whiskey. "You don't want a lecture on the fascinating history of treating shell shock?"

Phryne gave her small smile. She loved that Mac could always make her smile.

"All right," she continued, "my point is, it is not unusual for the victim to have angry outbursts and withdraw and disengage emotionally. You may not like it but how he is acting is a perfectly reasonable response to what happened. Like you, he needs time."

"But what if he doesn't recover?"

"There are plenty of men out there, Phryne, who have never recovered from shell shock. Your Inspector may have suffered but he recovered to lead what I presume was a normal life; a rigid and conventional life by my standards," she teased with a smile, "but a normal life nevertheless. And I doubt he had treatment, although I use that term loosely; the methods used to treat shell shock amount to torture in my eyes." She took another swig of her whiskey. "The speaker went on to denounce many of the theories as to why some men suffered from it and some didn't. Don't worry, I won't bore you with the details but she did posit that it mainly affects those who feel deeply. From what I know of Jack, Phryne," she said gently, "he fits in this category of men. Maybe he needs to be reminded of when he felt good."

Phryne nodded. That made sense to her. Although he was cold and had withdrawn from her, he did so because he was not coping with the depth of his feelings for her and his fear of losing her. She had always believed him to be kind and caring; she once told him he had a heart as deep as the Pacific Ocean and their short time together as lovers had revealed a gentle and loving side to him.

Mac continued to talk animatedly about the ins and outs of treating shell shock but Phryne had stopped listening. She was wondering how she could help remind Jack of the wonderful time they had together.

" … and bloody Freud with his twisted, patriarchal theories on …"

"Mac!" she interrupted. "You are a genius!" Phryne jumped up to get ready. "Stay here, I have an errand to run and you're coming with me."

Mac smiled as she watched Phryne walk out of the room with a spring in her step. She was being bossy and scheming and much more like her usual self and Mac knew then that she would eventually be fine. It was the Inspector that she was most worried about; he was shut away in his home, struggling alone with his memories and thoughts and despite what she had said earlier, he may not recover to be the same man that Phryne had fallen in love with.


	15. Chapter 15

The first ones were easy to do: a description, place and date. This one was much harder. Phryne tapped the pen against her mouth as she looked down at the back of the photograph. She looked up and chewed on the inside of her lip as she struggled to find the right words. She flipped it over and looked at the image. She loved this photograph and was pleased she had ordered two copies of everything so she could keep a set for herself.

It had been eight days and counting since she had driven back home with Hugh, who despite his young age had the maturity to remain quiet and not fill the awkward silence with chatter. She had sat in the back pressed up against the door and looked out the window to avoid Hugh's eyes as he regularly checked on her in the rear-view mirror. She spent the long drive home with her hand that was tightly clutching her handkerchief pressed to her mouth, fighting tears at the thought of what had been undone in the blink of an eye.

It wasn't the lost opportunity as lovers she lamented, as devastating as that was to her, it was their friendship that she was most worried about. In her fragile state, a life without Jack held no interest for her. She also worried about him and how this would affect his feelings towards Ulumbarra. She knew how much he loved and needed that place and although she never asked him to take her there, she was wracked with guilt that her actions had led to this mess. How could he ever forgive her?

She sighed and looked again at the photograph and wondered what he was doing and how he spent his days. She knew he would be going back to work soon and wondered how he was faring emotionally. She shook her head. Just get on with it, she chided herself. She had been sitting at her writing desk for over half an hour and she need to do this quickly. She wanted to deliver it on her way to tea at her aunt's, a tedious prospect but one she agreed to as a distraction from her woes and because she wanted to see Arthur. She was already running late. She quickly flipped the photograph and wrote just one word.

* * *

It had been about a week since Jack returned from Ulumbarra. He was unsure of the day but it felt like a Sunday: there were no cars driving by and his street was quiet. He had spent his first night at home in a rage as he struggled with memories and mourned the loss of his sanctuary. He found all the booze that he kept in his house and downed it in the hope that his dreams would go easy on him. They didn't; he woke several times, night after night, terrified and covered in sweat. As with before, they were a jumble of people and places: Frankie lying dead in a trench; Percy leaning up against sand bags, killing himself with a gun in his mouth before he could rush over and save him; his close friend in the army angrily pinning him against the thorns, only to die in his arms after being shot in the head.

But by far the worst dream was a recurring tangle of feelings and images: him with a cool and smooth stone in his hand; the dull crack of a shattering skull, over and over again; anger, relief and revulsion; eyes rolling back at the moment of death. But it was never Percy in these dreams, it was Phryne, and he killed her night after night and then spent half the night and the day dazed from the horror of what he had dreamt. He was jumpy, easily startled by sudden noises and he became terrified of falling asleep. He drank steadily, not so he was overly drunk but just enough to keep him at a comfortable level of numbness.

Exhausted and fragile, he retreated back into the stillness and quiet of the night and became nocturnal, drinking by night and sleeping by day in the hope of curbing those images. He would spend the nights in his garden on a rickety chair surrounded by weeds or on his back, looking up at the stars and thinking about the last time he felt this way. The nightmares were the same but the faces were different. Like last time he experienced flashbacks, fear and anxiety, but unlike last time he was, thankfully, alone.

When he returned home from the war he felt like he was in purgatory, stuck suffering between two awful worlds, neither of which he wanted to return to. He would drink down at the pub to escape the reproachful looks and demands that he move on with his life, preferring to spend time with other broken men who seemed to gather there in great numbers. At times the pub would be full but would be eerily quiet; they didn't talk much, the army had taught them to suffer in silence. During the war, if men expressed horror at the atrocities they experienced they were branded a coward and were deemed weak. They all heard the stories: struggling soldiers desperate to avoid going back to the front were labelled malingerers and were tried for desertion or insubordination. Most ended up dead, sometimes at the hand of their own commanding officer. Like the others, Jack learnt to shut up and withdraw and he kept to himself, repressing all feelings until he returned home.

Eight days after he returned from Ulumbarra, the nightmares had subsided, enough for him to get more than a few hours' sleep at a stretch. He was still haunted by images of the fight, but it wasn't her in his dreams lying dead on the stones. He knew what was happening to him, he'd been there before and he knew he would get better eventually. He didn't seethe in the darkness any more but stared at the stars and thought of his life before the attack, before he and Phryne became lovers. He still avoided thinking of their time together, their closeness, their love making and how alive he felt when he was pressed up against her, but he could think fleetingly of her now without feeling too anxious. He just needed time for the nightmares to subside and then he could get on with his life. He was still drinking to help curb his dreams but he was starting to feel stronger and was mentally preparing himself to go back to work.

That morning, as he sat in his armchair and reached for his beer, he heard the unmistakable purr of the Hispano-Suiza. He tensed and his heart began to beat a little faster. He clenched his jaw. Why? Why couldn't she stay away and leave him in peace? Why couldn't she ever take no for an answer? Damn her, just as he was starting to feel stronger. He took a swig of his beer and put it down hard on the small table next to him. He wouldn't answer the door, he would ignore her in the hope she'd get the message and leave him alone.

The sound of the engine grew louder. He shut his eyes and leant forward, putting his elbows on his knees. His hands were clasped tightly and pressed up against his mouth. He sat there quietly and listened to the tick of the clock while he ground his teeth and waited for the knock on his door.

The seconds ticked by. Where was she? He strained his ears to hear her and focused on every little sound. Maybe she couldn't find somewhere to park or was just driving by? Just as he was starting to relax, he heard the swish of a letter sliding across his hall floor. He rose abruptly and stood still, his eyes wide open, listening for other sounds. He tiptoed to the hallway and stared at the envelope. He was still staring at it when he heard the engine start up. He felt a twinge of ... what was that? Could it be disappointment? He whooshed out a breath, no, relief. He shuffled towards the letter, listening to his slippers slap against his heels with every step.

It was a gaudy red envelope with ornate gold dragons in the top right hand corner. Chinese, he presumed. It was larger than usual with no name or address on the front. He stooped to pick it up and was surprised by its weight. He turned it over and inspected it, impulsively bringing it to his nose so he could smell her. There it was: her unmistakable scent. He felt a twinge in his guts and he closed his eyes to deal with the rush of emotion. He quickly opened them again to focus on the envelope. It was stiff and thick; not a letter then, it had to be photographs. She had printed the photographs from their time at Ulumbarra.

He shuffled back to his chair by the window and wondered why she didn't post them. He tossed the envelope down by his beer on the small table. He wasn't going to open it, just the thought of it made his heart beat a little faster and he was trying to avoid that feeling. He sat back in his armchair and drank the last of his beer.

He caught a whiff of her scent again and he turned to look at the envelope. Would he? Nah, he was feeling stronger now and he wasn't going to jeopardise that so he went to the kitchen to eat something before retiring to bed for the day. He decided on one more beer, knowing that his dreams were less likely to haunt him when he slept during the day after a night on the grog.

He made a sandwich with three-day old bread, not caring that it was stale and that his sandwich was bland. He placed his plate and the beer on the small dining table and sat, enjoying the solid feel of the timber after hours in the soft armchair. After a few bites, he turned to look out the window and the red of the envelope caught his eye. He turned away from it and focused on chewing the crust of his sandwich but he could feel the lure of it. He tried to distract himself but his mind always returned to that package.

He turned to look at it properly. It sat on the table surrounded by his empty beer bottles. They looked like sentinels, placed there to protect that precious object, which seemed to glow amongst his drab furnishings, like a large ruby set amongst pebbles. He could feel his jaw tighten. She had done this on purpose, he thought to himself, put those damn photographs in a red envelope so he couldn't ignore them, so they would call to him, wherever he put them; even with the light off her scent would still summon him. Damn her! He stood up abruptly and was startled by the angry scrape of his chair on the wooden floor. Two long strides, that's all it took for him to snatch it from the table. He turned quickly and marched it outside to discard it with the rest of his household ephemera.

He flinched at the loud metallic scrape as he wrenched the lid off his bin and stared at its mouldy and crumpled contents. He wanted to throw it away to show himself he was serious about ceasing all contact. He stood there, breathing a little faster from his short burst of activity and turned his gaze from the rubbish to the impossibly red package that he gripped in his hand. It was fragrant and beautiful, unnecessarily so, and designed to attract attention. He huffed out a breath and lowered his arms. He just couldn't do it.

He softly replaced the lid to avoid the harsh clang and took the envelope inside, cursing the hold she still had on him. He lowered himself heavily into his armchair with a sigh and stared at the package for a while before quickly turning it and opening it carefully. He absentmindedly put the envelope back on the table as he put the contents in his lap and stared at the photograph on the top of the pile.

His heart beat a little faster as he took in the image before him and he felt a gentle pang of nostalgia. He studied the details of the photograph: the lower half of the image was dominated by the land that he loved with its seemingly vertical bluff covered in trees, their pale trunks conspicuous against the large rocks and small caves. But it was the sky he was drawn to, always the sky. The trees and rocks ended in a raggedy outline against the bright sky that was contrasted with soft balls of cloud. _High-ball cumulus_, if he remembered correctly, his favourite cloud and the portent of rain. He was comforted by knowing that and he slowly exhaled, unaware that his shoulders had relaxed just a little. He was reminded of when he would lie in the long grass to escape the taunts of his teenage siblings. He would link his hands behind his head and read the clouds, as he had done with his father for as long as he could remember. Here he would look for faces or objects in the curves of the cumulus, wondering if other cloud gazers saw the same things.

He turned the photograph over and saw her neat, flowing hand.

_Jack's Mountain, Ulumbarra_

_March 15, 1930_

He almost smiled and carefully propped the photograph that he took of his mountain up against one of the empty beer bottles and slowly made his way through the rest of the pile. They were all his photographs, the ones that he took when she was making them breakfast on their first morning together. Each one was labelled and evoked fond memories of time spent at Ulumbarra at different stages of his life. As far as he could tell they were in chronological order, apart from the photograph that she took of him. Why not include it?

He picked up the last of the landscapes and braced himself for the one he was dreading that would lie underneath: the one he took of her after they kissed on the ridgetop. He frowned. It wasn't her, but him: the photograph she took when she snuck up on him on their first morning together. He had turned around and tried not to show his delight at seeing her barefoot and unadorned; it felt like she belonged there, like they belonged there together.

He turned the photograph of himself over to see what she had written.

_You_.

No name, no place name, no date. He was puzzled. He said it out loud.

_You_.

His voice was croaky from disuse and he smarted at hearing a voice in his house that had been silent for so long. He looked at it for a while and then gave a small shrug and added it to the rest of the photographs. He grabbed the red envelope to look for the one he now wanted to see but it wasn't in there. His anxiety at seeing an image of her had turned to disappointment. Why hadn't she included it? Was it blurred and not worthy of printing? He had done well with the others, they were sharp and the exposure was good, so he doubted that was the reason.

She had done this deliberately, he was sure of it now. She had given him fragments of their time there together, starting with photographs that would evoke fond memories in the hope that he would want to see more, in the hope that he would want to see _her_. He huffed out a breath and shook his head. Well, it worked, he wanted to see his photograph of her now. He stood up and took a few steps towards the door to prepare for bed and paused, turning to look at the photographs on the table. He stood there for a short while before walking back to them. He reached towards the table but it wasn't a photograph he was after. He gently lifted that impossibly red envelope and brought it up to his nose, closing his eyes and inhaling her scent. He turned and took it with him to bed.

Two frustrating days after the photographs had arrived, Jack opened his letter box to collect his mail and her scent hit him. He had the same twinge in his guts and his fingers scrabbled to pick up the letters, rifling through them in his front yard dressed only in his pyjamas and slippers. Nestled in amongst the rest of the mail was a plain envelope, stamped and addressed to him in her distinctive hand. He rushed back inside, threw the others on his hall table and tore it open, noticing the slight tremble in his hands.

There it was: the last of his photographs. He discarded the envelope and held it gently, as if it were a precious and delicate artefact.

He let out a breath. It was perfect.

He turned it over to see what she had written but it was blank. He nodded, she had left it to him to label this photograph. What could he possibly write that would sum up that moment?

_Phryne, Ulumbarra, March 16 1930_?

_My two greatest loves that I have now lost_?

Jack felt his heart beat strongly in his chest but instead of looking away, he brought it closer, as close as his eyes would allow him without losing focus to take in as much of her as possible. He had felt something when he saw it but it was not what he expected to feel. He felt pride, he was proud that he had produced such a perfect image. He took the photograph over to his armchair and reunited it with the others that he had arranged in the right order so he could look at their time together in pictures. He picked up the one of him on the verandah, turning it to ponder the odd choice of word on the back.

_You._

And then it hit him.

_You, the man I have fallen in love with against all better judgement._

The Honourable Miss Fisher had fallen in love with him. Jack squeezed his eyes shut and took in a deep breath to brace himself for the expected wave of emotion. When she first said those words he had felt them hit him, along with her angry spittle, but he didn't care at the time, he was too angry to feel anything else. And now, just when he thought his feelings had started to slowly come back to him, he felt nothing again. He picked up the image of her on the ridgetop. Nothing. He felt flat, two-dimensional, just like the image that he held in his hands and this worried him more than feeling panic or sadness. Suddenly he wanted to be there, back at Ulumbarra, he wanted his life back and he wanted to feel again.

Before he knew it, his return to work date was upon him and he walked into the station where a small gathering of men presented him with a cake to welcome him back. He knew he should feel touched by their gesture but all he could do was give them a small smile and thank them, taking his slice and feeling Hugh's sad eyes follow him into his office. He immediately put in a request for the evening shift for a week so he could continue his nocturnal habits and sleep in the mornings. He tried to stop drinking, hoping the feelings would come back but all that returned were the nightmares.

At night, he would stare at the photograph of her in the hope that he felt something, even anger would do, but there was nothing. He was convinced that Phryne was the key to getting his feelings back; she had helped drag himself out of his pitiful existence before, but he knew he couldn't go back to being her lover. He wasn't strong enough for that and suspected that they only became lovers because they let down their guard at Ulumbarra, that place where people are drawn to each other. He also doubted she would want him after all that had happened. He was too damaged and who could blame her for feeling that way after how he had treated her.

The best he could hope for was friendship, even in his numb state he knew that he wanted and needed it. He enjoyed her company and had shared many a lovely evening with her in her parlour. She was clever and sophisticated, kind and compassionate and she had a beautiful and indomitable spirit. She made him smile, which he found addictive and after a stressful day he would walk into her home in the hope that her laughter would lighten the heaviness he carried around from the strains of his job and his lonely existence.

He knew going back to a friendship with her would be hard for them but he was willing to do anything to start feeling alive again. The only time he came close to that feeling was when he detected her faint scent on that beautiful red envelope, which he kept on his bedside table. Before going to sleep, he would settle under the covers and reach for it, pressing it to his nose and closing his eyes to breathe her in, relishing in the small twinge of emotion. It gave him hope that one day soon he would be strong enough to see her and when he did, he would be able to smile at her.


	16. Chapter 16

_Thank you again for taking the time to leave a review. As I have said before, I really love reading them. _

_This is my antepenultimate chapter ..._

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Phryne was well cared for by her loving staff but she had declined in the weeks after she came home. They made sure she ate, had fragrant and hot baths and a soothing drink at night but they were powerless to help heal her heart. She turned down invitations to dances and tea, choosing to spend her time at home with a book under the pretence of needing time for the fine lesions on her face to fade and for her hands, head and shoulder to heal. Only Mac and her aunt were allowed to see her; she had instructed Mr Butler to inform all other visitors that she was feeling unwell and that she would get back to them at the first opportunity.

Two weeks after returning from Ulumbarra, she was still devastated by his rejection of her and she missed him terribly. She blamed herself for what had happened yet she was unable to go to him, to right her wrong and tell him how sorry she was that she had done this to him. She wanted to help him but felt powerless to do anything other than send him those photographs in the hope they would trigger good memories of her and Ulumbarra. When she walked briskly from his house after sliding the photographs under his door, she felt slightly upbeat and hopeful but almost one long week later, she had no idea if they had helped or hindered his healing. She didn't even know if he had opened the envelopes.

She was also becoming more and more desperate to know if she had killed Frankie. She was sure of it now and Jack had all but admitted it when he told her that she had no idea of what he had done for her, but not knowing for certain was affecting her mind and her body more than the physical injuries she had sustained. During the day, she would wonder how she could possibly move on from this. Despite what Mac said, killing someone, even in self-defence, had changed her and she now belonged to a small club of killers that included the worst of society. At night, not knowing how he had died meant that different scenarios, all violent and with much blood and suffering, were played out in her dreams. She was exhausted and vague and sometimes struggled to remember what she did with her days.

She had regular visits from Mac, who was her rock, her friend and physician, and the one person she could confide her innermost thoughts to, but after Jack returned to work, it was Hugh that she relied on to get through her days. She was desperate for news of how Jack was faring and would sit in her parlour, waiting to hear the door of the kitchen close softly behind him. She would give Dot and Hugh a few minutes alone before joining them, often startling them apart until they came to expect her presence. The three of them would share cocoa and make small talk and then Dot would pretend to potter so Phryne could gently press Hugh for information. At first, he was politely evasive and would squirm in his seat as he answered her questions: _No, he didn't ask about you. Yes, he seems to be settling in and getting on with the job. No, he doesn't seem to be his usual self yet._

By Jack's fifth day back, Hugh had begun to look forward to these strangely intimate chats with Miss Fisher. They would lean across the table as Hugh talked in hushed tones about his concern that his beloved Inspector seemed to be deteriorating further. Although he had not shared a shift with him, he stayed back most days after the Inspector arrived and pretended to catch up on paperwork so he could observe him, looking for signs of the man that he knew and admired. He was pale and gaunt, he told Phryne, but that's not what worried him. When pressed, he struggled to articulate his concerns, settling on likening him to the robot in _Metropolis_ that he had seen at the pictures a couple of years ago. _Hollow? Mechanical?_ Hugh nodded, yes, that was it, adding sadly that the Inspector left the office as soon as his replacement arrived, often neglecting to say goodbye.

When they shared cocoa for the last time on Jack's seventh day back, Hugh looked at Phryne as she leant across the table, eyes wide in anticipation of news. He started to suspect the Inspector and Miss Fisher's synchronised decline was more to do with them being estranged than the horrors of the attack. They were both looking pale and tired and had lost weight, which accentuated the lines on their faces. He decided to tell her that the Inspector had three days off in the hope that she would go and see him and sort out this mess that they seemed to be in. He knew the Inspector would be furious with him but he was willing to risk it if it meant that they could all go back to the lives that they led before Miss Fisher and the Inspector fought in her parlour.

On the night of his seventh day back at work, Jack went about his job in a perfunctory way, relieved that he had three days off ahead of him, while Phryne tossed and turned with anxiety. The nightmares were becoming unbearable. She was convinced that if she knew what had really happened to Frankie she would stop having dreams of him dying slowly, alone and in terrible pain.

She was tired and confused and was deeply conflicted. At first, she wanted to go to him and help him heal so they could be together again, but as time wore on she started to doubt their suitability as lovers: he could never accept what she did and it would forever be a source of conflict. She was also tired of feeling sad and she chided herself for falling for him in the first place and for allowing herself to love him so completely. None of this would have happened if she had stuck to her convictions and hadn't let him get under her skin. As much as it pained her, she decided that night that she should use this break to try and fall out of love with him and move on with her life.

She knew spending time apart was important for both of them: for her to stop grieving and for him to heal, but she also knew that she wouldn't be able to move on from the horrors of the attack unless she knew if she had killed Frankie. Even though he had asked her to leave him alone, she made up her mind to go to him in the morning. The timing was good; he had a few days off before going back to work to recover if he had a setback from seeing her.

She tried to get some sleep to steel herself for what she knew would be a difficult conversation but she spent most of the night wide awake and thinking about Jack. She looked at the clock on her bedside table. It was four in the morning. She gave up on sleep and lay in her bed and dreaded the day ahead. Although it would take time, she hoped they could return to being friends and colleagues, and even though she thought it was the right thing to do, she felt sick to the stomach at the thought of losing him as her lover.

Later that morning, Phryne felt her heart pounding as she walked from her car to Jack's door. She stood on the step and took a deep breath. She knew this was not going to be easy but she had to do it. She had almost pulled out; her sleepless night had left her feeling emotionally fraught and she was worried that he may be angrier with her for not leaving him alone. She took a deep breath and knocked, stepping back from the door.

There was no response. After waiting a while she knocked more forcibly and listened carefully, her head tilted so her ear was close to the door. She heard movement: a chair was scraped back, the shuffling of feet. She waited, forgetting to breathe as she listened for footsteps down the hall but none came. She was sure he had heard her knock and he knew it was her; he would have heard the Hispano-Suiza. Damn him, she was determined to see him now. She knocked again, harder this time.

"Jack. It's me. I need to talk to you. I know you are in there."

She waited, listening again. She spoke louder this time.

"Jack. Open up. I need to talk to you!"

She knew he would be mortified that she was out on his porch yelling through the door to him. What would the neighbours think? She heard quick footsteps down the hall. He unlocked the door and held it open, standing in the doorway with wide eyes. She looked at him and her heart sank. He wasn't puffy and swollen anymore but he looked dreadful. He had dark circles under his eyes and smelt faintly of alcohol.

"Jack, please let me in, I need to talk to you."

Jack looked at her for a long while, trying to decide what to do. His heart was beating strongly and he was feeling uneasy. He wasn't ready to see her but she looked so sad and lost that he couldn't say no. He sighed and stepped aside so she could enter, glancing down the street to see if anyone was watching.

Phryne walked down the hall and stopped at the door to his lounge room. Jack brushed past her and went to sit in his chair and looked up at her. He didn't invite her to sit; he was thrown by having her come to him and was trying to gauge how he was feeling seeing her stand there before him. She looked terrible: the scratches on her face had healed but she looked tired and anxious, older perhaps and she had dark circles under her eyes. He waited quietly for her to talk.

Phryne knew he was waiting for her to say why she was there, but she was so shocked at seeing him like this that she stood there awkwardly for a few moments and took him in. He looked completely dishevelled. His pallor was grey and he looked like he had aged ten years. She glanced at the empty bottles of beer on his side table. He looked up at her and their eyes met and they gazed at each other, both of them struggling with their feelings and pondering how quickly they had deteriorated from lovers to this.

Jack broke the silence. "Why are you here, Phryne?" He had tried to sound calm but he sounded cold and uncaring.

Phryne tried not to be hurt by the indifference she heard in his voice. She was struggling with seeing him like this, but she held her head high and got straight to the point, trying to hide the shake in her voice. "I need to know if I shot and killed Frankie."

Jack looked surprised. He was not expecting this. He had assumed she had come to insist that he talk to her and to tell him what he needed to do to move on with his life, like all the others had done when he last felt like this. In truth, he was put out by her question. He had dreaded this moment and looked around the room, frantically trying to find something to focus on so he wouldn't have to look her in the eye.

"Jack, look at me, please. I need to know if I killed Frankie. I know you don't want to see me now. I know you are hurting and believe me, if there was any other way of finding out the truth I would have done so, but there is not. Only you know what happened that night and I need to know. Can you understand that? Can you understand that I need to know if I killed someone? It's eating away at me, Jack." Phryne's voice had started to shake and she had tears in her eyes. "That and seeing you like this," she added quietly.

Jack looked up at her and blew out a breath. He closed his eyes and rubbed his face as he tried to shut out the images of what was left of Frankie. He tried not to see what used to be his face, he tried not to relive the shock and the panic and nausea that he felt that evening. He lifted his head to look at her. She looked so sad and vulnerable and he felt for her. He never liked seeing her like this and his concern for her pushed all thoughts and images of Frankie out of his head.

Phryne watched Jack's face soften as he looked at her and was relieved that he wasn't angry. She slowly took a step closer to him. "Please Jack, tell me. I know this is hard for you to relive that, and the last thing I want to do is upset you, but I need to know."

He suspected that she knew she had killed him, but she clearly needed to hear it from him. He hung his head and nodded.

"Tell me Jack, I need to hear it!"

He looked up at Phryne watching him with wide eyes. "Yes," he said quietly, looking down at the floor again. "You killed him, Phryne. You shot him."

He lifted his head at her sharp intake of breath and watched her take in the news that she already knew. Her eyes were wide and she paled and he thought she might be sick. She brought her hand to her chest and started to sway. She was conflicted and hurting and even though she had suspected it for a while now, a small part of her hoped it wasn't true and she was shocked by the confirmation.

Jack stood quickly and put his hands on her shoulders and gently manoeuvred her into a seat opposite his chair. She sat willingly, staring at the opposite wall with an expression that was all too familiar to him. For the first time in weeks he stopped thinking of himself and his troubles and his heart ached for her. He wanted to embrace her, to tell her that everything was going to be all right, but he didn't think she would want that. He knelt before her and tentatively placed one hand on her knee.

Phryne looked at Jack kneeling before her but she didn't see him. She had shot Frankie almost point blank with a shotgun and the thought of his injuries made her feel nauseous. She slowly drew herself back to the present and she looked at him and spoke to him in a shaky voice. "Jack, tell me, tell me how he died. Where did I shoot him?"

"Phryne, you don't need to know that."

"Yes I do! Do you know what not knowing has been like for me? Do you know how many ways he has died in my mind? Tell me!"

He knew why she needed to know but he couldn't tell her. He wasn't ready to describe Frankie's injuries and he wanted to protect her from the image that had haunted him since the attack. "No Phryne, I won't. It won't help anything now."

Phryne was starting to feel anxious. "It will help! I need to know if he died slowly and suffered."

Suddenly the room was too hot and too small and she felt like she couldn't breathe. She stood up abruptly before Jack could respond. She had killed him. All the details from the attack came flooding back and she felt panicky. She looked down at Jack squatting on the floor and she felt anger; it was her turn to feel angry now. She was angry at being lied to, angry that he still would not tell her what happened and angry and frustrated at herself for getting them into this mess in the first place. She needed air; she had to get out of this sad little room to escape from the heartache of the last three weeks so she could start living her life again.

Jack was momentarily startled when she stood. He didn't want her to leave; if she walked out the door she may never come back and he knew then that he didn't want that. He reached for her hands but she pushed them away. He stood suddenly desperate to stop her going. She pushed him aside and rushed to the door. The stress of the last few weeks and her sleepless night was suddenly too much and she cried as she ran down the hallway.

Jack ran after her, calling out to her, his long strides allowing him to get to her before she could open the door.

"Phryne! Wait, don't go."

He reached for her arm just as she reached the door and he pulled her to him so she spun around to face him. She knocked his hands away and growled at him through gritted teeth and turned again to reach for the door handle. Jack was desperate for her to stay now. He reached for her arm again and drew her to him, grabbing her other arm as she spun around. He held her gently but firmly.

"Phryne, please, wait. Please don't go!"

She looked pale and wild, her eyes were wide and her tears had caused strands of her hair to stick to her face. He braced himself for a kick but none came.

"Phryne, it will be all right, please stay and talk to me," he pleaded.

"No it is not all right and I don't want to talk to you!" She yanked her arms out of his grip and shoved him in the chest with the palms of her hands. "You have to stop doing this to me. You can't cocoon me to protect me from everything and everyone. I don't want that! You will suffocate me! I don't want you to do this. I can't do this!"

Jack reached out again to draw her to him, desperate to soothe her so she wouldn't walk away from him. She beat his hands away again and she suddenly felt the need to say all that she wanted to say before he walked away from her at Ulumbarra.

"Let me go! You may have been happy to sit here miserable and with your drink for company, but you were not the only one to suffer. I needed to talk about what happened but you didn't want to have anything to do with me because you wanted to punish me. You wanted to punish me because you loved me too much. How could you do this to me? I won't let you do this to me. I won't let you punish me for being who I am!"

Jack held her by the upper arms and tried to pull her to him. She was frantic now and she balled up her fists and struck his chest with both hands, crying out in frustration more than anger. Jack let her hit him; he deserved it after how he had treated her. She struck him a second time but all the intensity had gone and he wrapped his arms around her and drew her in and pressed her against him tightly, her balled fists wedged between them. She stopped struggling and howled into his chest.

Jack pressed his cheek against her hair and held her while she sobbed. When she started to calm, he spoke to her.

"Phryne, I know this must be hard for you, and I know how you are feeling, but he was going to shoot me and you saved my life. He died quickly and didn't suffer. You saved my life, Phryne." His hand moved up to gently rub her between her shoulder blades. "And I haven't had a chance to thank you," he added softly.

They stayed like this for a while, tightly entwined and swaying gently until their heartbeats slowed and they calmed. Phryne eventually stopped crying and moved her arms to wrap them tightly around him. She had missed him so much that it scared her.

She sniffed against his chest. She had wanted to go, wanted to struggle free of his grip but she was unable to move, just like the first time they had embraced at the homestead. She knew she should break from his arms and go, to steady herself, to pull herself together and remind herself that she didn't need to be with Jack to be happy, that she didn't need any man to make her happy, but here she was, pressed up against him, inhaling his scent and unable to leave him.

Jack gently pushed her away and crooked his finger under her chin to tilt her head back to look at her. She was a mess: strands of her hair were stuck to her face and her makeup had run and left smudges of black under both eyes. He finally managed to smile at her as he cupped her face in his hands. She closed her eyes as he slowly slid his thumbs from the bridge of her nose to her cheekbones to gently wipe away the tears and mascara. Before she could open her eyes again she felt his lips press softly to hers. The kiss was gentle and brief and said more about their love for each other than anything they had said since they had become lovers.

Jack withdrew from the kiss and drew her to his chest again and buried his face in her hair.

"I'm so sorry, Phryne. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I haven't been myself after the attack and I wasn't coping. I should never have treated you that way."

Phryne looked up at him. She gently stroked his face. He looked exhausted. "Shh, Jack, you don't need to apologise, I know a little of what you have been going through and I shouldn't have said what I did. I am the one that needs to apologise. I am so sorry for dragging you into this mess and I feel terrible about what happened to you."

They looked at each other, both of them feeling like they needed to take the blame for what happened to make amends and move on from their ordeal. There was so much to be said between them but they were both too exhausted. Jack took both her hands in his and kissed her knuckles, before looking at her again.

"I'm so tired, Phryne. We need to talk about this, and I know you want to know about Frankie but I'm not ready for that. Can we talk later? I just can't do it now."

She nodded, she should go and let him get some sleep. "Yes, of course. We both need to sleep. We can talk when we are feeling better. Will you let me know when you are ready to talk?" Jack nodded, and she reluctantly withdrew her hand from his and kissed him goodbye on the cheek. She turned and took a step to the door.

"Phryne," he called out suddenly. Although he was desperately tired and needed to sleep, he couldn't bear the idea of her leaving. Phryne turned and looked at him. He hesitated, "Could you lie with me? Just for a little while? I don't expect you to stay."

She smiled at him softly and nodded. He took her hand and led her to his bedroom, where he stripped down to his underwear and climbed into bed. He pulled the covers up and she took off her shoes and lay down so she was facing him. He turned to her and reached for her hand, which he brought up to his mouth. He gently held it with both hands and kissed her fingers. Phryne reached up with her other hand and ran her fingers through his hair to relax him.

"Why did you do it, Jack? Why did you say you killed Frankie? Why would you do that? I don't understand."

Jack looked at her for a while before answering.

"Because I didn't want you to live with knowing that you killed someone. I had to shoot men, boys sometimes, during the war and it still haunts me today. I have learnt to live with it, but killing Percy with my bare hands ..." He shook his head and closed his eyes tightly. It was too soon to be having this conversation.

Phryne watched him and realised how much he was still struggling with what happened that night. "I'm sorry, Jack," she said softly, gently stroking his face, "I shouldn't have asked. This has been terrible for both of us, but we did what we had to do."

He nodded slowly and opened his eyes to look at her. He let out a breath and she felt him relax. They stayed like this for a while, both of them quiet. Jack closed his eyes and again gently pressed her hand to his lips. After a short while, he drifted into sleep.

Phryne waited to hear him breathe deeply before she gently prised her hand out of his and slowly sat up. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and thought about what he had just said. Despite the shock of the attack, his injuries and the torment he was experiencing, he still tried to protect her, not from the police, as she had thought, but from the devastation of knowing she had killed someone.

She sat on the edge of the bed for a while and thought about how she was feeling. She knew they still loved each other, but try as she might, she just couldn't imagine a future with him as her lover. She was so sure before she came here that she was ready to walk away from him so they could heal and move on with their lives. But she now knew she wasn't quite ready for that: they needed to talk more about what happened at Ulumbarra.

She looked up and smiled at the photograph of herself that was propped up against the base of his lamp. She looked to the floor and huffed out a breath; there was no point making a decision about it now, she was too tired, too emotional and she desperately needed to crawl into her bed. She should go, leave him to sleep and wait for him to let her know when he was strong enough to talk to her. She stood and looked at her shoes on the floor before turning to look at him sleeping. She seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. His hands were still together and pressed to his face, like he was pleading with her to stay with him. She closed her eyes briefly and sighed; she just couldn't leave him. She took off her clothes and got under the covers.


	17. Chapter 17

The first thing she saw after she opened her eyes was the photograph of herself after they had kissed on the ridgetop. She looked at the clock on the table; it was just after two in the afternoon. She turned onto her back and looked over to see Jack lying on his side watching her quietly. He smiled and reached out to caress her face. She smiled back and turned to him, both of them shifting to get closer to each other. He gently kissed the top of her head as she buried her face in his neck and pressed her body against him.

Phryne wrapped her arms around him and thought of the last time they were lying entwined, before everything changed. They had gone back to bed for a nap before dinner to try and shake their lingering hangovers. They had intended to sleep but once they embraced they couldn't resist each other and had spent the rest of the afternoon languidly making love. It seemed so long ago now; a different time, a different relationship.

Jack gently pushed back her hair and kissed her forehead. Phryne tilted her face up to look at him and suddenly they were kissing, their mouths warm and fuzzy from sleep. But unlike that last time at Ulumbarra, the kiss was not driven by sexual desire but by a need to express everything they had been unable to say before and after the attack. It was an apology, a desire for reconciliation, a way of purging remorse and regret. It was an acknowledgement of their love for each other and although they were relieved to be wrapped in each other's arms again, both suspected the kiss was the beginning of the end. It was one final moment of much needed intimacy that would allow them to talk freely before they reverted to colleagues and friends.

Jack pulled away from her suddenly. The flood of sensations was too much for him and he turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling as he puffed out a breath. Phryne reached over to hold his hand. He turned to look at her and pulled her hand onto his chest.

Phryne watched him lie there for a while with his eyes closed, his thumb gently caressing her knuckles. She wanted to ask him what he was feeling but she didn't want to intrude and suspected she knew anyway; he was coming to terms with feeling again and he was trying to untangle what it all meant.

He opened his eyes and turned to her. He gazed at her for a while and then reached out to brush her hair back from her forehead. He loved seeing her like this. With her hair off her forehead she was his Phryne, intimate Phryne, the Phryne only he saw when they were making love or bathing together or swimming in the creek with her hair pushed back from her face. He thought of other men seeing her like this and he felt panicky and turned onto his back again. He just couldn't win: he felt nothing at all or too much. He was stuck between two awful worlds again.

Phryne looked at the small frown on his face and moved closer so their bodies were touching. They hadn't yet said a word to each other. Jack turned to look at her and gave her a small smile.

"You stayed."

Phryne nodded. "I thought I wanted to go, I went to go, but I just couldn't do it. I know I said I would wait for you to let me know when you are able to talk but I couldn't bear not knowing when I would see you again. I've been so worried about you and I've missed you terribly, Jack."

"Well, you're here now," he said with a small smile. "We can try talking."

Phryne nodded, relieved. They looked at each other, not knowing where to start.

Phryne spoke first. "I … I am so sorry Jack. I have felt really terrible about what happened to you. It's all my fault, I should never have taken the case. None of this would have happened if I had trusted my instincts. I knew it was dangerous but I ... I ..."

Jack sighed. She was not apologising for doing something reckless and dangerous but for ignoring her own judgement. He let it go for now to let her continue. "So, why did you do it?"

Phryne heard the frustration in his voice. She knew this was important, they had to be frank and honest with each other, as difficult as it may be. Who knew when they would see each other again once she walked out his door. She tried to calm herself with a deep breath but she was feeling anxious about revealing her feelings, which, she had to admit, she was not very good at.

"Because when you walked out of my house after I asked for your help I was devastated and terrified that you were walking out of my life again. It scared me that I felt that way about you so I stupidly threw myself into the case as a distraction because dealing with killers seemed less terrifying to me than admitting that I was falling in love with you."

She had not met his eye when she said that but looked up at him now. "I have loved you for a while, Jack, I know that now but I have spent the last several months refusing to acknowledge my feelings for you because I was terrified of feeling that way about anyone. Every time I love someone I lose them or get hurt and I didn't want to risk losing you, especially as a friend. I still don't. I never intended to let myself fall for anyone but then you came along. I allowed myself to fall in love with you and look where that got us. I couldn't think straight and I ignored my instincts."

Jack looked at Phryne, who looked fraught and reached out to pull her to him again. He thought they were so different when he first met her but he suspected they were more alike than either would have expected: they were both terrified of the consequences of falling in love with each other. He turned his body and wrapped his arms around her and kissed her gently on the forehead. He realised that apart from René he didn't know anything about her past lovers. In the time he had known her, he had been aware of a few of her dalliances and as painful as it was to consider, he suspected there were many more that he didn't know about. As hard as it was to think of her with these men, it made sense now: she had fleeting relationships so she couldn't fall in love with anyone.

Jack was quiet for a while. "_Nor hath love's mind of any judgement taste_ … I'm no expert, Phryne, but I think the problem of love affecting our ability to make good decisions is universal. It certainly was for me: my love for you and need to protect you clouded my judgement, which is why I invited you to Ulumbarra when everything told me it was a bad idea."

"Why did you think it was such a bad idea?" Phryne knew why, but she wanted to hear to from him.

Jack thought about it for a short while. "Because I could barely restrain myself from wanting to kiss you after that mess with Sanderson and Fletcher …," he closed his eyes briefly and shook his head, knowing that they would soon be embroiled in that court case. Phryne gave him a reassuring squeeze. He opened his eyes again and continued, "… so I suspected that I would weaken and succumb to my attraction to you there. I have wanted to kiss you for a while now but I always thought I would be yet another dalliance so I held back. But once we were alone at Ulumbarra, I started to think you had feelings for me so I let down my guard. I didn't expect it to be so wonderful, Phryne. I know I have said this before but it felt right for us at the time."

Jack felt safe and comfortable with her as they lay close to each other in bed and now that he had started he felt the need to keep talking. "My problem is that I love you too much. Seeing you lying on the ground after the fight panicked me and I lost the ability to think rationally. I didn't even check to see if you were alive, Phryne, and that has eaten away at me these last few weeks. I failed in my duty as a friend, a lover and as a policeman. I thought you were dead and I froze. You could have been dying but I …," Jack closed his eyes and took in a deep breath to compose himself. After a short while he continued in a soft voice, "You saw what I was like. I was a complete mess. You could have died because of me and I can't forgive myself for that."

Phryne propped herself up on her elbow and looked at Jack in disbelief. "But Jack, this wasn't what you would normally experience as a policeman. You can't compare it to what you do in your job. This was so personal for you: you were fighting to save your life and mine and it happened at Ulumbarra." She reached up and cupped his face. "Jack, you were beaten up and shot at. You were terrified of dying and losing me and you had to kill someone. There is no shame in going into shock after what you went through. We would have died if not for your actions."

"And how will I cope when this happens again, Phryne? I can't guarantee I won't do the same next time. And there will be a next time; you make rash decisions and endanger yourself. I have to stop loving you. It's the only way."

Phryne blinked slowly and took a deep breath. She knew this was coming and steeled herself for a difficult discussion. "I don't plan on getting into a situation like that again, Jack. I know you are still very angry at me for running back to the homestead, but in spite of this, we worked as a team because we know each other so well." She reached out to run her hand over his chest and added quietly, "We survived, Jack."

Jack looked up at the ceiling and shook his head slowly. "I was so hurt and angry at you for leaving me, Phryne. I never felt in control during that attack; I fell to pieces before I even laid eyes on them." He turned to face her and gently tucked her hair behind her ear. "The irony is that I love you for who you are. I love that you are clever and brave and that you are doing something that you enjoy and are good at. I meant it when I said I would never try and change you; believe me, I know what it's like when others want you to be someone different and I would never wish that on anyone, but loving you weakens me and I'm not strong enough to live with the constant fear of losing you. I felt it before when I thought you had died in that car but this time … this time I went to pieces. I lost control of my feelings and could only manage anger and I took it all out on you. I can't fall apart every time I think you are in danger. I can't do that. The last three weeks have been hell. I don't feel like I belong anywhere anymore; not here, not at Ulumbarra and not with you."

Jack's breathing became ragged as he struggled with his feelings. He closed his eyes and turned to lie on his back again. Phryne gently rubbed his chest and waited for him to calm.

"Jack? Jack, talk to me, please."

Jack finally turned her. He looked wracked with sorrow.

"I can't do this, Phryne."

Phryne's heart was pounding. Despite knowing what he meant she asked anyway to keep him talking. "What? What can't you do, Jack?"

"I can't do us anymore. I can't be with you. I need to stop loving you, Phryne."

Despite her earlier misgivings about their future together, she felt panicky at Jack rejecting her. She was suddenly desperate to convince him to stay with her, to give them a chance. They loved each other and understood each other and there was too much that they needed to say before they could make this decision.

"Jack, please don't make a decision about us when you are feeling this way. You are not feeling yourself at the moment so how can you know if this is the right thing to do? Please Jack, don't do this again, I …"

"Phryne," he interrupted her. "You said it yourself, this is about how loving each other is getting in the way of who we are and the decisions we make. Isn't being true to ourselves more important than loving someone?"

"But we can be ourselves and love each other, Jack. The time we had together at Ulumbarra showed me that. You said yourself that it felt right for you. It felt right for me too Jack, it still feels very right and that is a very hard thing for me to admit. Please tell me you are at least willing to give us a chance." Phryne was almost pleading with him now.

"It felt right _because_ we were at Ulumbarra together. Everything feels right there: it's an idyllic retreat from the real world and it allowed us to escape from our problems. We let down our guard, Phryne, that's why. When reality finally found us, it all dissolved: I did what I do and you did what you do, we didn't do it together." Jack sighed and shook his head slowly, "I just can't see it working. You will always do what you want to do and I will always be frustrated by this and then worry about you. I'm not sure I could live like that."

Phryne closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was convinced they shouldn't be making a decision about their future together now, not when they were both still feeling so raw from the attack.

"Jack, I know this is a problem for you but I want you to understand why I do what I do, why I ran to the homestead to get weapons when you told me to stay. Will you hear me out?"

Jack sighed. He was tired of having this argument; they seemed to go around in circles and he suspected neither would ever back down. At least they weren't angry at each other anymore. He nodded.

"You said earlier that you felt like you had lost control and that crippled you. I understand how you feel, I really do. I have also been in situations where I had no control and felt powerless. I couldn't protect my family when my father lashed out at us when he was on a drunken rampage. I blamed myself for Janey disappearing and I couldn't do anything to get her back. And then there was René; I was away from home and was broke and vulnerable and felt powerless to stop the abuse. It was terrible and I felt like I didn't know who I was anymore. I couldn't rescue Janey and I couldn't rescue myself so now I feel compelled to do it when anyone's in trouble, particularly people I love."

Jack was visibly moved by Phryne's words and he reached out to pull her hand to his mouth so he could kiss it. He hadn't considered that the death of her sister and her time with René were the motivation for her to do what she did. He always thought of her as so strong and courageous and was ashamed that he was so caught up in how he was feeling that he hadn't considered that she too had been deeply affected by the attack.

Phryne managed a small smile as Jack kissed her hand. "I've had terrible dreams about this since as long as I can remember," she continued. "In my dreams I feel heavy, like someone is kneeling on me and holding me down and I am paralysed, unable to do anything, just like I was after drinking the poison. I am always desperate to save someone in these dreams: Janey, you, my mother, dying and bloodied soldiers, but I am always helpless to do so because I can't move. My limbs are as heavy as lead and although I put all my energy into trying to move them, I can't and would watch powerless as people I loved were taken from me or killed. I couldn't even scream. That's why I do what I do, Jack. I can't stand around and feel helpless any more. I didn't leave you to run back to get the gun because I thought you were in any way inadequate, or because I thought I could be the only one to fix the situation. I instinctively felt that we needed a weapon and I ran because I had an incredible urge to save you, just like you feel the need to protect me. We both do this, Jack. We are driven by these urges to protect each other because we love each other."

Jack reached out to pull her to him. She put her head on his shoulder and inserted her leg between his. She wrapped her arm around him and pulled him closer so she could press her body against his. She wanted to make love to him, to put all this behind them and start again but he wasn't ready for that.

Jack thought about what Phryne had just told him. "I understand that now, Phryne, but I'm not strong enough to cope with you doing that. It's not just the effects of the attack that are making me feel this way, I felt like this about you before then; I was a wreck after thinking you had died in that car."

"But Jack, we weren't intimate then so we didn't talk about it properly. We are talking now and we can in the future, that's what lovers do. Doesn't it feel good to finally talk about this? It does for me."

Jack closed his eyes and shook his head. "I think I'm too damaged to be in a relationship with you, Phryne. I …"

"Jack!" Phryne interrupted him, exasperated now. She sat up and turned to sit beside him so they were facing each other. "You have to stop thinking that way. What would you think of me if I told you I was too damaged to love or be loved because I blame myself for Janey's death or because I stayed in an abusive relationship? Yes, you have suffered terribly and you have times when you need to be alone so you can come to terms with how you are feeling but that only makes me love you more, Jack."

Phryne moved closer and ran her fingers gently though his hair. "You are real, Jack. You feel deeply and are more interesting to me because of what you have been through. All the people that I love most in the world have suffered in some way, unlike the dreadful people that I am expected to fraternise with because we are of the same social standing. They have never known hardship and are shallow and boring and mean nothing to me. Please Jack, I have run from loving people most of my life, but I am willing to give us a go even though it terrifies me. We have the opportunity to love and really understand each other, what could be more special than that?"

Jack looked at her sitting beside him. This is what he loved about her: she was passionate and caring and had a better understanding of human nature than just about anyone he knew. He sighed. Phryne Fisher was fighting for the chance to love him and he was too scared to let himself love her back. Could he really give up this incredible woman? Wasn't she worth the occasional pain of worry and frustration? He reached up and ran his hand gently over her jaw, down her neck and over her shoulder. He quickly sat up and pulled her into a kiss.

Phryne was surprised by his sudden move and wrapped her arms around his neck as the kiss became more passionate. She wanted to make love to him more than ever now but she had to know. She reluctantly pulled away and looked at him.

"Please Jack, we don't need to make this decision now. Can we wait a while to make sure we are making a decision when we are feeling better? Neither of us is really feeling like ourselves at the moment. Let's give ourselves some time. Will you do that?"

Jack gave her a small smile and nodded. "All right Phryne, let's wait a while. I can do that."

Phryne beamed at him as she gently ran her hand cross his cheek. They gazed at each other before she slowly drew him back in for a kiss.

* * *

Phryne stood in her parlour and took a deep breath. She was nervous and was trying to relax. She looked at her watch: Jack was due in about half an hour. She had spent the last hour or so pacing back and forth, fiddling with her handkerchief, trying to come to terms with the decision she had made last night. Was it the right one? Would she live to regret it? What would happen if she changed her mind? Was Jack feeling the same way? How was this going to affect their working relationship?

They had agreed almost three weeks ago that Jack would come to Phryne's house so they could talk about their decisions about wanting to be with each other, or not. She had left him that evening after spending most of the day talking in bed. Jack was still unsure about their future but he promised that he would only make a decision if and when he felt more like himself.

Once she was home and not wrapped in his arms breathing his scent, she questioned the intensity of her love for him. She spent the three weeks vacillating between being sure she wanted to be with him and being terrified she would be making a mistake and that they would both suffer more as a consequence. She asked herself the same questions over and over again and each day she had a different answer. When she was feeling particularly vulnerable she wondered if she had fought strongly to stop him rejecting her because of her pride and she was forced to think deeply about her motivations for getting involved with him in the first place, despite promising herself that she wouldn't devote herself to one man. Why him and not others? What did she love about him? Did she genuinely love him or did she love that he loved her? Was she trying to rescue him like she did with the people she had surrounded herself with because she couldn't rescue her sister? Would he suffocate her?

It was only on the night before he was due over that she made a decision. As difficult as it was to make this choice, she had decided that she would honour her feelings and would face the consequences knowing that she had carefully considered her motivations. Despite this pledge, she was feeling considerably anxious.

Mr Butler knocked on the parlour door and entered, startling her out of her thoughts.

"Excuse me, Miss Fisher. A letter has just arrived for you."

She reached out and took the envelope and thanked him, grateful for the small distraction.

"I am heading off now," he said, "is there anything you require before I go?" Phryne had given Dot and Mr Butler the weekend off. She wanted to have the house to herself this weekend to come to terms with their decisions.

"No, thank you, Mr Butler. Enjoy your weekend."

Mr Butler gave her a small nod and smiled. "Thank you, Miss. I will see you Sunday evening."

Phryne's small smile quickly faded as he turned to leave the room and she huffed out a sigh. She looked down at the envelope and sucked in a breath when she saw her name and address written in a familiar spidery hand. Why had he sent her a letter? He was due at her house in less than half an hour. Surely not …

Phryne's heart sank. Is this how he wanted to end it? With a heavy heart she deduced that he must have written to her because he didn't want to continue their relationship and he was not feeling strong enough to tell her in person.

She felt dazed and sat down on her loveseat and nervously fingered the envelope. She was pulled from her thoughts when she realised it was unusually lumpy and more rigid than a letter. She frowned in confusion and opened it carefully. She pulled out two thin pieces of cardboard that were held together with a small green ribbon tied into a lopsided bow. She put it in her lap to untie it; she was more curious than nervous now.

She lifted the cardboard and drew in a breath at the drawing before her. She recognised it immediately: it was a simple line drawing of a mistletoe, probably the one that grew in the gum tree outside the bedroom they shared at Ulumbarra. It was drawn in what looked like fine ink with stippling for detail. It was exquisite, simple but perfectly proportioned, to her eye anyway. She looked at the initials in the bottom left hand corner.

_JR, '12_

So this was his parting gift to her. He had given her something that would have been special to him and would forever remind her of the wonderful few days they had at Ulumbarra together. Phryne fought back tears. She had expected him to tell her that he was unable to be her lover and she had mentally prepared herself for that but the mistletoe drawing had thrown her and she was flooded with memories of their time together before the attack.

She wiped her eyes with her handkerchief and picked up the drawing to have a closer look at the detail, dislodging another piece of paper, which fluttered to the ground. She lifted it and turned it over. It was his writing and her eyes widened when she realised what it was.

_Let me join with you, nurture you with the essence of my being_

_So we can grow together, coupled yet disparate, with our own resolve_

_You will draw from me, but you will not weaken me_

_As the connection we have will make me grow stronger._

_ ._

_Unforeseen forces will try to wrench you from me_

_And those seeking your flower will fight for your nectar_

_But our bond will withstand all the tempests of life _

_And with limbs entwined tightly, we will endure._

_I love you_

_My darling, my mistletoe._

_J_

Phryne brought her hand to her mouth. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. She was not expecting this, she was expecting a letter outlining why he thought they could never be together, not the mistletoe poem that she had playfully challenged him to write on the morning of that fateful day when they finally became lovers. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she did both. She was incredibly moved by his poem, even if the analogy for their love was a parasite, hemi or otherwise.

She wiped her eyes and sighed as she looked at the clock. He would be here any minute. She looked at his sketch and then reread the poem. Her heart thumped in her chest and she felt more anxious now about her decision. Just as she thought she might change her mind yet again, she heard him knock on her door.

* * *

_Nor hath love's mind of any judgement taste… _is from _A Midsummer Night's Dream._


	18. Chapter 18

_Well, here we are at the end of my story. When I started writing it, I never dreamt it would be 18 chapters long or that it would write itself in the direction it did. I think it surprised me more than you. _

_I have really enjoyed the experience, which was made all the more pleasurable by your heartening words. It was encouraging knowing that you stayed with the story, despite its sometimes dark content, so a heartfelt thank you for taking the time to say such lovely things, especially to you, S and E._

* * *

_March 1931_

Jack braked gently as he came to the turn in the road and continued slowly towards the entrance to the drive. As the car slowed his heartbeat increased and he felt beads of sweat start to form on his brow. It had been a while since he felt this way; in the last few months he had managed to avoid almost everything that reminded him of those few weeks of hell, but he couldn't put this off any longer. He wanted and needed his sanctuary back.

He came to the letterbox and turned into the drive and continued slowly towards the homestead. He didn't wind down the window to sniff the eucalyptus-laced air as he did all the other times, but he suspected he could one day soon. He drew to a stop about half way down the drive and let the car idle. He took a deep breath to calm his heart, which was beating more strongly now. He felt a trickle of sweat slide down the side of his face.

He sat in the car with both hands on the wheel and relaxed just a little as stared at the new bend in the road that was constructed by his family soon after the incident. They had rallied around him the best way they could under the circumstances: rather than pushing to change him or hurry his healing, they changed the property. A large gum tree was regrettably felled to make way for a new bend in the drive to avoid that place of horror, which was transformed into a garden. It had been planted with species that grew in the area so it would, over time, be reclaimed by nature, which seemed to heal its wounds faster than he did.

He had spent the last year coming to terms with what happened that night. He had the occasional nightmare, which was manageable, but he was worried that coming back here too soon would flood him with memories and trigger a relapse so he waited until he felt ready.

So far so good. He didn't want to push it by rushing his journey down the drive to the homestead so he cut the engine and sat there for a while, thinking. In truth, he had taken this place for granted before the attack, but now, as he sat sweating in the car and staring vacantly towards the bend in the drive, he wanted to remind himself of why Ulumbarra was so special to him. He had always felt so connected to this place, and he desperately needed to get that connection back before he could put the events of that night behind him and move on with his life.

He had a lifetime of memories to choose from so he focused on how this place had shaped him in the hope that his fond memories would push the images that still haunted him into the furthest recesses of his mind. This place was about family, which was everything to him, especially since he didn't have one of his own. Although he grew up in Richmond, he had always felt he belonged here, surrounded by his family's rich history. Four generations had been shaped by this place and although he didn't share the same name as his mother or grandparents, he knew he was one of them: they were all quietly determined, sensitive people, with a passion for nature and the arts. It didn't surprise him that he too loved to draw and read books and poetry; he belonged to their clan.

But this place was more to him than just a family home, it was his refuge from the troubles that had plagued him since he was a boy. He always knew he was different from his siblings and the others at school, but he didn't feel that here. As a boy on the cusp of his teens who was confused by the world and struggling with feelings, he would find comfort in exploring the bush, or being tucked into the corner of the lounge in front of the fire with his nose in _The Jungle Book_. He would dream of forever living that life, where he could be one with nature, free from the shackles of his crippling emotions, so he could escape from the schoolyard taunts, the complications of friendship, and the confusion of puberty. _My lovely sensitive boy_, his mother would say as she ruffled his hair and drew him to her breast for a hug. His propensity to feel deeply, too deeply at times, had caused him much angst in his life, but he had made peace with that now. He had painfully discovered what it felt like to be disconnected from all that was meaningful and he no longer wanted that life that he dreamed of as a boy; nature existed but he wanted to live.

It was here, as an awkward teenager with an interest in science, that he developed his understanding of nature, discovered the majesty of the heavens at night and learnt about clouds. Here, he could escape from reality in some of his favourite books: _Cloud Studies_, _Flora Australiensis, _and the battered but precious volumes of _Encyclopædia Britannica_ that his grandparents had brought with them on the ship to Australia. He loved the photographs and illustrations in these books, but it was the words he found solace in. The language of science was his special language and he would get lost in the syllables of his favourite words: _cumulonimbus_, _conglomeration_. When he accompanied his mother on her trips to collect specimens they would talk in the language of botany: _dioecious, floriferous, hemiparasitic_. These were words that he shared with his mother, and an elite group of scholars and naturalists to which he ached to belong, but were out of reach of his siblings and the dim-witted bullies he encountered at school.

He turned to look at the bush beside him and thought about how this place had continued to shape him as he grew older. Life here was complex but not complicated and made more sense to him than life in the city. Violence and suffering and death and decay were an integral part of life here at Ulumbarra, where entities do what they can to survive. After death, the body gets eaten or decays into the earth, which is necessary for life to continue. The idea that nature maintained a delicate equilibrium so everything had a chance at survival resonated strongly with him, and as strange a decision as it was to his family, his mother in particular, this is why he became a policeman. He wanted to help maintain the equilibrium of the society he lived in so everyone had a chance at survival; someone had to keep the predators in check.

He had a decade of memories of how this place had helped him cope with his post-war existence and his struggles with Rosie, but he didn't want to think about that. He distracted himself by winding down the window to let the soft breeze blow over him. The smell of eucalyptus was strong and he closed his eyes to breathe it in. He was feeling a little less anxious now and it felt good to be reminded of what made this place so special to him.

He gazed at the bend in the drive again and thought of the last time he was here with Phryne. He knew it now: she was the real reason he was here. He had always thought that he truly belonged here, but he knew now that it wasn't quite true. Even though this place was his history, his home, it was who he'd become, never had anything felt so right to him as those few days with Phryne before the attack. She was that last little weight that would balance his scales, the last piece in his puzzle. She was the dot of his i and the cross of his t; she completed him. It didn't matter to him that she didn't feel the same way, this was about how he felt, and it was only when he brought Phryne here to unite his two loves did he feel true belonging: they belonged here together.

Jack slowly exhaled. Those important memories of those special few days had been faded by the attack. They were a glorious beginning to a tumultuous year and he desperately wanted them back again.

* * *

It had been almost a year since Jack stood hesitantly on Phryne's porch. She would have read his poem by now and he desperately hoped that she was still willing to give them a chance at being together. He took a deep breath and knocked. He eventually heard her footsteps and his heart thumped in his chest as she opened the door and took a few steps back to look at him. They stood there, forgetting to breathe and gazed at each other. Jack anxiously studied her face. She had been crying. His heart sank and he steeled himself for rejection.

Phryne stared back at Jack standing on her porch and watched as he nervously fingered the rim of his hat. He looked so different to last time she saw him when he was dishevelled and pale from grief and exhaustion: he wasn't so gaunt and had colour to his cheeks again. She was struck by how handsome he looked dressed in his customary three-piece suit with his hair groomed immaculately into place. She had spent months wanting to see him just a little undone: his tie removed and his collar open, revealing his jugular notch; shirt sleeves rolled up so she could see his forearms; an unrestrained lock of hair on his brow, but now, as she stared at him in her doorway, she was thrilled to see him like this. He was buttoned up and contained and he looked like the man that she had fallen in love with all those months ago now.

Only seconds had passed as they gazed at each other but it felt like an eternity for Jack. He took a few small, tentative steps towards her.

"Phryne?"

He was trying to decipher the change in her expression when she launched herself at him and flung her arms around his neck.

"Yes, Jack! My answer is yes."

Jack breathed out her name and wrapped his arms tightly around her as he buried his face in her hair. He kicked the door closed with his foot and tossed his hat towards the stand so he could properly hold her. They stayed like this for a while, gently rocking.

He gave her a squeeze before loosening his grip on her and pulled away slightly so he could look at her. He smiled, which quickly turned into a grin. Phryne grinned back at him and they chuckled softly. He drew her to him and touched his forehead to hers so the tips of their noses were touching.

"I am very, very pleased to hear that, Phryne."

They drew apart slightly and gazed at each other. Jack reached up to push her hair from her forehead and tuck a strand behind her ear.

"We are alone, Jack," she whispered.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Well, I am very, very pleased to hear that too."

They gazed lovingly at each other. Jack threaded his hand through her hair at the back of her head and drew her in for a kiss. Their kiss was slow and tentative at first but soon became passionate. Phryne pulled back to look at him.

"Let's go somewhere else so we can entwine our limbs," she whispered with a smile, pressing her body against his.

Jack chuckled at the mistletoe poem reference. "We have the rest of the afternoon for that, Phryne. Shall we toast our decisions first?" he teased, knowing that they would not be able to resist each other for much longer.

"Well, actually, we have the whole weekend to ourselves. And no, the toast can wait, I don't think you realise how long I have wanted to slowly peel you out of that suit."

Jack looked surprised and grinned at her. "The whole weekend? And how did you know I wasn't working this weekend?"

"Deduction, of course. I am surprised you needed to ask. I knew you would have organised the weekend off just in case I ... well, you know."

"_Phryyyneee_," he said playfully. "What did you do to Hugh to get him to tell you?"

Phryne huffed out a breath and rolled her eyes. "Jack! Oh, alright, but don't be too cranky with him, I harried the poor boy until he gave in."

Jack drew her close to him and whispered, "Is that what you plan on doing to me to get me upstairs?"

Phryne raised one eyebrow at him and reached up to loosen his tie. "Who said anything about going upstairs, Jack?"

Jack snorted out a laugh; it felt like they were back to their usual selves. He couldn't quite believe they had both agreed to give a relationship a go after all that had happened. He felt like the luckiest man alive again. He pulled her to him again for a kiss.

Phryne pulled back suddenly. "By the way, Jack, you win."

Jack looked confused. "Huh?"

"Your mistletoe poem is much more romantic than Shakespeare's woeful attempt. And your drawing is exquisite." She reached up to give him a kiss. When she spoke again, her voice was shaky with emotion. "Thank you, Jack. I will cherish them forever."

Jack pulled her back for a kiss that quickly became passionate. He backed her towards the stairs until Phryne turned and led him by the hand to her bedroom.

Over the next two days, they made love when and wherever they pleased. They talked about who they should tell and how their relationship would work, given society's views on unmarried couples, including how this would affect his job. They decided they would tell Hugh and her staff so he would feel comfortable staying with her when it suited but other than that, they would keep it quiet, at least until after the coronial inquest into the deaths at Ulumbarra. They knew that news of their relationship would get out eventually, and they talked of how it would affect the Sanderson—Fletcher case. Even though they were not together at the time of the arrest, they knew it would complicate matters.

When Jack stood outside her door on that Friday afternoon, his guts in a knot from anxiety, they were two people who loved each other but were unsure of their future together. By the time he kissed her goodbye to return to his house on Sunday afternoon, they were firmly entrenched as a couple. They believed that despite their one major issue that would no doubt test them, they were well suited: they shared common interests and enjoyed each other's company and were now able to talk more freely about how they felt. Neither had talked so honestly about their feelings with anyone and it was this that had changed Jack's mind on that day at his house three weeks prior. Despite this, they were both pragmatic and they knew that it still may not work.

* * *

A difficult year later, Jack sat in his car on the drive to the homestead and relived the wonderful weekend at Phryne's almost a year ago. He let out the breath he was holding and felt Phryne's hand on his thigh. He turned to see her looking at him expectantly, a gentle smile on her face.

"We don't have to do this, you know. Getting this far is a good start. We could stay in town if you like."

Jack smiled and placed his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. Phryne needed no man to complete her, but she loved him anyway, and for that he was eternally grateful. He doubted he would have managed the trials of the year if it were not for her. She in no way diminished him but made him stronger and he thought fondly of how she had been there for him to support him through a very difficult year.

She stood by him at the inquest into the deaths at Ulumbarra, where the coroner handed down his findings that the heroic actions of Detective Inspector Jack Robinson were necessary to secure the lives of himself and the Honourable Miss Fisher.

She was there when he was put on the stand at the beginning of the drawn out Sanderson—Fletcher trial where they questioned his allegiances, his honour and judgement in arresting the dedicated policeman who was not only his ex-father in-law, but who they believed had assisted his ascension through the force. He had ground his teeth and bore the brunt of their smears. When Phryne was called to the stand, he glowed with pride as she made the seasoned defence team look like first-year law students.

She was there for him when some of his peers gave him a wide berth at the Policemen and Firemen's Ball, but he took a deep breath and danced with her anyway.

He was there to support her when Jane was threatened with expulsion after punching a girl at school. _I was defending you_, she had told Phryne. _They were saying awful things about you and the Inspector that they had read in the papers_.

It had been a hard year, there was no denying that but they had survived it and here they were now, ready to move on and start thinking about their future.

"It's all right, I can do this, Phryne. I just had a few memories to get through."

"Memories of the attack?" she asked.

"No, memories of this place, actually. Good memories."

She scooted closer to him and turned his face to kiss him gently on the lips. She rummaged in her bag for a handkerchief and took off his hat so she could gently wipe the sweat from his brow. She ran her fingers through his hair and watched him as he closed his eyes and relaxed.

"Well, that's a good start. I love you, Jack. We've been through a lot together this year and we can get through this as well. We'll do this together." She looked up and him and grinned. "And, the sooner we get to the house, the sooner you get your presents."

They had timed their trip up here to coincide with their anniversary as lovers as a distraction from the other reason they were here. Phryne had made Jack close his eyes as Mr Butler placed the presents she had for him on the back seat of the car, which she then covered with a blanket. She knew she shouldn't rush him, but she was eager to give him her gifts.

Jack smiled at her and started the engine. He drove slowly, rounding the new bend in the drive and his heart skipped a beat when he saw the transformation. The garden beds at the front of the house were moved to the other side of the drive, where he had sat and watched Phryne sitting in the doorway on the night of the attack. The gravel and stones on the drive had been replaced with rammed earth.

He drove up to the house and parked. He got out of the car and stood quietly looking at the house with a hammering heart while he waited for Phryne to join him so they could walk in together. She held his hand as they walked past the wooden posts that were supporting the roof. The roses had gone and were replaced with a soft, thornless climber with pretty bell-shaped flowers.

Jack unlocked the door and they walked inside. He tossed his keys on the hall table, just like he always did and they hung up their coats. They walked into the lounge room and stopped to take in the transformation. The upholstery on the lounge chairs as well as the curtains had been replaced with more modern, brighter material. Colourful cushions were tucked into the corners of the lounges.

Jack turned to Phryne. "Something tells me that you played a part in this," he said smiling.

Phryne was relieved to see him looking happy. "Now what would make you think that?" she said, smiling back.

He cupped the back of her head in his hand and drew her to him so he could kiss her forehead. "My mother may have mentioned something about you two shopping for fabric."

Phryne rolled her eyes and twisted her mouth into a smirk. "Well, at least I now know she is hopeless at keeping secrets. What do you think? Do you like it? I know how you never liked change here."

He turned to her and smiled. "I like change if it is for the better and this is definitely for the better. It's really freshened the place up." He moved to sit on the lounge as Phryne drew back the curtains and opened the doors to the verandah. Jack smiled as he took in the view to the hill and he knew then that he could move on from what happened here.

Phryne turned to see him looking wistfully out the doors. She was thrilled that he wasn't disappointed by the change. Despite it taking time to convince him to come here, he seemed to be doing remarkably well. She walked to the back of the lounge and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Stay here, Jack, and I will bring in your presents." With a quick kiss on the cheek she was gone.

It took three trips for Phryne to bring his presents in. Her main gift to him had nearly reduced him to tears as he opened the elongated mahogany box to discover a beautiful bronze telescope. His hands had a slight tremble as he lifted it gently from the box to have a closer look. The second gift was the tripod, which he took straight to the verandah in preparation for assembly. Her third gift to him was a gift for the homestead. She had filled a small box with the finest art supplies in the hope that he might take up drawing again, and if not then his mother or anyone else in the family could use them when here.

Phryne was seated next to him on the couch. "Happy anniversary, Jack," she said with a grin, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.

Jack needed a moment to compose himself. He was feeling overwhelmed with emotion and blinked back tears. He turned to her and drew her into a hug.

"Phryne … I …" He was lost for words and pulled back so he could kiss her. "Thank you, I love them. You couldn't have chosen more special gifts. I wish I had something to give to you."

"But you have given me your gift, Jack. I only wanted to come here for our anniversary with you and I meant that. And here we are. Seeing you here like this is the best gift of all." Phryne reached up to gently cup his cheek in her hand. "Plus I expect another poem at some stage you know."

Jack smiled. "Speaking of poems and my mistletoe challenge, I believe we were rudely interrupted when I was trying to restore the romance of mistletoe for you."

Jack grabbed Phryne's hand and pulled her off the couch and onto the verandah. He stooped below the railing and jumped to the ground, turning and putting his arms out to help her down.

He took her up the side of the house to stand under the gum tree outside their bedroom. When they got there, Jack positioned them so they were standing under the mistletoe that he and his mother had sketched all those years ago.

Jack looked up at the mistletoe and Phryne watched him carefully. She detected a hint of sadness in his expression.

"Jack," she said gently, reaching up to put her hand on his shoulder, "are you all right? You look a bit … sad."

Jack gave her a small smile and exhaled. "I'm fine Phryne, I'm just feeling a little overwhelmed by everything, that's all."

"Jack," she said softly. She knew what was troubling him. Although they hadn't spoken of it since he had come to her house just under a year ago to learn of her decision, she suspected that he had hoped she would change her mind about marriage so he may one day propose to her here. She reached up and laced her fingers behind his neck.

"Jack, you know why I won't marry. It's not because I haven't found the right person," she said gently, "because I have. It's what marriage represents for a woman. I know you would never make me feel like you owned me, but I refuse to be part of a tradition that treats women that way."

Jack huffed out a small laugh. She knew him too well. "I know that Phryne, I just love the idea of being married to you. Don't worry, I won't let this change anything."

Phryne smiled at him coyly. "Well, I know it's not quite the same, but I will be your mistletoe."

Jack raised an eyebrow at her. He was smiling now, pleased that she had forced him out of his sombre mood. "What, to have and to cling to me until death do us ... "

"I do!" she beamed. Her smile was infectious and Jack couldn't help but grin too.

"Well, go on then," she said. When Jack looked a little confused, she added, "I think it is customary at this stage in the ceremony to kiss the parasite, Jack."

Jack laughed, a deep throaty laugh. Phryne laughed too, and Jack drew her closer so he could kiss her and they chuckled softly against each other's mouths. He tilted her chin up and looked lovingly at her as he brushed her fringe from her forehead, his hands coming to rest just under her jaw. He leant down to kiss her gently on the lips.

"I am utterly in love with you, Phryne."

"The feeling is mutual, Jack," she said, pulling him into a longer, more passionate kiss. "Now let's go and get our things from the car so we can have a whiskey and listen to music."

They grinned at each other as they remembered the last time they did that here. Phryne took his hand and led him around the tree to her car. She was so relieved that everything had gone well so far, and now they had three days to themselves to celebrate. And there was much to celebrate: their bravery and willingness to give their relationship a go; growing closer, despite their difficult first year together; and Jack agreeing to return here to make peace with his beloved and much-needed retreat. She was looking forward to swimming with him, climbing with him, dancing and drinking whiskey with him, and of course making love to him, but most of all, she was looking forward to just being here with him. He wasn't the only one that had longed to come back here to reclaim the memories of their time here together. Phryne too had felt the pull to return here, not just to help him heal but to relive those three special days that forever changed her.

Later, as she sat on the verandah and watched him assemble the telescope, she wondered if they would be together now if she had agreed to go to a safe house. She hoped that they would have managed it, whatever the circumstances, but at the time, with all that was going on in their lives, she knew that it took something special to bring them together.

She took a deep breath of the crisp country air and felt more content than she had been in a long time. Unlike Jack, she had never had a strong sense of belonging; she had changed continents and social status and she never quite knew where she truly belonged. As she looked at the man that she loved excitedly putting his telescope together, she thought she could feel the beginning of something stirring within her. It was the beginning of a feeling that would stay with her, and by the end of their three days here together she would have that sense of belonging that she had always wanted, and it would be with him, here at Ulumbarra.


End file.
